


Family business

by mermaid



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Family, Angst, Case Fic, Clothing Kink, Cousin Incest, Cousins, F/M, Family Secrets, First Time, M/M, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Robbery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaid/pseuds/mermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just before Danny leaves Jersey for Hawaii, his mother tells him a secret: Frank Williams, the man who raised him, isn't his biological father. And once Danny gets to Honolulu, meeting Steve McGarrett is a shock of an even more disturbing kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers:** only minor ones, up to 2x01. This is an AU where Danny arrives in Hawaii after Steve does, and isn't a member of Five-0.
> 
>  **Warnings:** non-graphic violence and off-screen OC deaths. Angst regarding possible [genetic sexual attraction](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genetic_sexual_attraction) between adults who may be closely related. References to adult cousins in a romantic relationship. 
> 
> I can't figure out how to do a 'highlight to read' content warning here. If you require more detail, please scroll down to the first comment to read a very spoilery outline of the premise.
> 
>  **Author's note:** Sorry, I will never finish this fic. I kept writing it long after I fell out of love with the show, but I ran out of energy and interest. For what it's worth, I had a happy ending planned, eventually. Read the endnotes for a synopsis, if you're curious!

Just past noon on his first day with HPD, Danny Williams glances around the bullpen and then accesses the file on Jack McGarrett's murder.

The man was shot in a home invasion, almost two months ago; beyond that, the records are frustratingly vague. Meka Hanamoa was appointed as lead detective, but several days later the investigation was transferred – along with Hanamoa himself – to the Governor of Hawaii's special taskforce. Though the McGarrett case is now marked as closed, there are no details on the perp or what happened to him.

 _Weird_ , Danny thinks.

The room is pretty much empty, the other detectives at lunch or out on cases. But a shaven-headed guy in his 40s is at a nearby desk, frowning at something on his own screen.

Danny racks his brain for the guy's name – he met so many people this morning – and then says, "Yo, Ahuna. What can you tell me about the Governor's taskforce?"

Ahuna drags his attention away from his computer and snorts derisively.

"They call themselves Five-0, now; fuck knows why. The boss is a crazy-ass Rambo type who never wore a badge before, but his partner used to work here...you got hired to replace him, actually. Then they've got a dirty ex-cop, who most of HPD wouldn't piss on if he caught fire, and a surfer chick turned rookie who's a real firecracker. The four of them run around, guns blazing, like they own the fucking island. They steal our best cases and get all the glory."

Local LEOs often mouth off about rival agencies, especially the Feds, but Ahuna's rant seems fueled by a more personal kind of resentment. So Danny just focuses on the most promising part. "A firecracker, huh? What's her name?"

Danny has a weakness for feisty women, God knows – Rachel is living proof. He likes feisty men, too, though he hasn't dated so many of those.

"Forget about it," Ahuna advises him. "Kono's married."

"Damn," Danny says. "Can you point me at Five-0's HQ anyway? They were investigating a case I'm interested in. The vic was an old family friend, and I promised my folks I'd find out what happened."

It's the truth, vaguely, but Danny has no intention of being more specific with a guy he's known all of three hours. Luckily, Ahuna doesn't ask; he just rattles off directions to a building several blocks away.

"Thanks, man."

When Ahuna doesn't respond, Danny heads downstairs and starts walking. Even in November, it's warm enough to be out in shirtsleeves. Though Danny never thought he'd miss the Jersey winter, Hawaii's weather seems downright unnatural to him.

The Iolani Palace is old, but the taskforce's base is new and shiny. There's a table in the central area which seems to be a big touchscreen computer. Newark PD has nothing like this, and Danny bets HPD doesn't either. Being the Governor's pet initiative obviously has its advantages.

There's nobody in sight, and Danny assumes they're all out to lunch. He'll have to come back later. And then a tall, dark-haired guy walks out of an office, and stops dead when he sees Danny.

Danny had already decided what to tell these Five-0 people: a more detailed version of the story he gave Ahuna, at least to start with. But now he's lost for words. This guy is beyond hot...he's _beautiful_ , and Danny's hit by a rush of instant, overwhelming attraction. The last time he felt like this, a stunning brunette had just stepped out of her dented car, all cute accent and flustered apologies.

The guy looks Danny up and down, his gaze an odd mix of threat assessment and come-on. Danny gets checked out this blatantly in gay bars, sometimes, but it's never happened when both interested parties are wearing badges and guns.

After what feels like a long silence, the guy asks, "Can I help you?"

Even if the attraction is mutual, Danny didn't come here to flirt. So he pulls himself together and says, "I hope so. Did you work the Jack McGarrett case back in September?"

To Danny's surprise, the guy clenches his fists; a muscle visibly twitches in his jaw. "Yeah, I did. You're with HPD?"

"I am, as of this morning," Danny says, "but I'm actually here in a more personal capacity. I think I'm McGarrett's son."

The guy's mouth drops open. "You're _what_?"

"The long-lost illegitimate son of Jack McGarrett, or so my mother told me last week," Danny says, not sure why he's spilling his secret to a stranger...a stranger whose face has paled as Danny's spoken. This guy must have known McGarrett, to be taking the news so personally. Maybe he's one of those ex-HPD detectives Ahuna mentioned.

When no reply is forthcoming, Danny holds out his hand. "I'm Danny Williams."

The guy's grip is surprisingly loose for such a strong man, and he shakes like he's on autopilot. Still, the touch of his warm hand makes Danny's skin tingle.

"Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. Jack McGarrett was my father."

***

Danny drops the guy's hand like he's been electrocuted. Holy fucking hell, he's just been having lustful thoughts about his _brother_. Half-brother, yeah, but still...

"Sorry," he manages. "I wouldn't have blurted it out like that if I'd known. His obituary said you were in the Navy, so I wasn't expecting to actually meet you – or not yet, anyway."

Steve folds his arms across his chest. "I stayed in Hawaii so I could catch my father's killer, then I transferred to the Reserves to run this taskforce."

"And did you find the bastard?"

"I put two bullets in his chest," Steve says, "and he fell into the ocean."

Danny nods. "Good."

Shaking his head a little, as though trying to clear it, Steve makes an impatient gesture.

"Look, maybe you knew I existed but this is the first I've ever heard of you. I'm gonna need some ID, some genetic evidence, and some kind of explanation before I believe anything you say."

Steve's right hand comes to rest an inch from his holstered gun, and Danny swallows hard.

"No problem," he says evenly. He can't blame Steve for being hostile; the guy just lost his dad, and now Danny's dropped this bombshell out of the blue. "Here's my ID, to start with."

Without making any sudden moves, he pulls out his wallet and brand-new detective's badge and hands them over. Steve immediately disappears into his office – to call HPD and confirm Danny's status, most likely. Danny takes deep, calming breaths as he waits, but his heart's still pounding.

"Okay," Steve says, once he's returned with Danny's ID. "You're willing to submit to genetic tests?"

"My DNA is at your disposal," Danny tells him, spreading his hands. "I'm about as curious as you are to learn if it's true, since all my life I assumed Ma's husband was my father. I'm still finding it hard to process, myself."

"Right," Steve says. "Well, I guess we can get the local M.E. to do the testing, in an unofficial capacity. Max Bergman is a weird guy, but he's damn good at his job. I'll call and ask him to see us after work."

"Sounds good." Danny checks the time. "Hey, I gotta head back to the precinct. It's my first day at HPD, so there's all this orientation shit to get through."

"Give me your number, and I'll text you to confirm about tonight."

Steve is all business now. Danny wonders if it's just the shock, or if he's generally locked down when it comes to actual human emotions.

They exchange numbers, and Danny tries very hard not to notice how small an iPhone looks in Steve's big hand. God, he wishes Ahuna had told him the name of the 'crazy-ass Rambo' back at the station. Walking in here knowing he'd encounter Jack's son – other son – would surely have prevented this.

Danny's life is messy enough as it is; developing a creepy attraction to his half-brother is the _last_ thing he needs.

***

It's hard to concentrate on the interminable bureaucracy that takes up the rest of Danny's first day. Sergeant Lukela shows him around the precinct, mid-afternoon, which at least gets him away from his desk. The old guy has been with HPD his whole career, so he's full of stories. Danny gradually works the conversation around to Jack McGarrett.

"When I was doing some online research about this department, I saw you'd lost one of your retired officers in a recent home invasion...I think the name was Mac-something?"

Lukela sighs. "McGarrett. Yeah, that was rough. Jack was a good man and a great detective – one of the best when it came to training up new guys, too. Some of the finest cops on this force served as his rookie partner."

He frowns, momentarily, then adds, "And now his son's wound up in law enforcement, which Jack never wanted."

Danny knows Lukela is talking about Steve, but it still gives him a chill. He himself had always felt drawn towards policing, despite having no family or friends on the job. Maybe some things really are genetic.

Late afternoon, Danny gets a text telling him to meet Steve and Dr. Bergman at 6pm. He looks up the HPD directory, and finds that the M.E.'s office is just two blocks away. Danny taps out a painstaking reply, still getting used to his new smartphone. Grace, aged eight, can already text faster than he can.

It's a slow day, homicide-wise, so most of the others knock off around 5pm. One of HPD's few female detectives, Reyes, stops by Danny's desk and says, "Hey, Williams, wanna grab a drink with me?"

Danny hesitates, and she holds up her hands defensively. "It's not a pick-up line; I'm happily married. Just a 'welcome aboard' kind of thing, okay?"

"Okay, great," Danny says. "Can we go somewhere close by, though? I want to come back here and finish this damn paperwork."

Reyes laughs. "Sure, if you like. But HR operates on island time, to be honest, so there's really no hurry to get it all done tonight."

She leads him to a cop bar down the street, where she orders a local brew called a Longboard. Danny sticks to water: he wants to keep a clear head for dealing with Steve, and doesn't want to risk the alcohol messing with the DNA swab.

"So what's your first name, Reyes? I didn't catch it, earlier, when the Lieutenant was doing the introductions."

"Girlie."

Danny blinks at her, confused, and she sighs. "Yes, that's my actual name – it's Filipino. I only go by Reyes, on the job. It's hard enough to get taken seriously as a female detective without having a name people laugh at."

"Okay," Danny says. "Reyes it is."

"You got a nickname, Williams?"

"I do, but only my daughter is allowed to use it. Danny is just fine."

Reyes grins. "Oh, how old is your daughter? My Marissa just turned ten."

They get into a whole conversation about their kids, after that, and Reyes suggests a bunch of local places Danny could take Grace on his custody weekends. It's relaxed and easy, and the time pretty much flies by.

***

Danny excuses himself at a quarter of six, and heads to the M.E.'s office. He finds Steve waiting in the corridor outside, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Loud honky-tonk piano music is coming from behind the swinging doors. Danny raises his eyebrows at Steve who says, "Playing helps Max to think. He's a savant or something."

Despite his name, Max Bergman turns out to be Japanese-American. Danny's starting to understand why Hawaii is called a melting-pot.

After making brief introductions, Steve explains, "Max, I'd like you to compare Detective Williams' DNA to mine. There's a chance that the two of us are related."

"We are all related, Commander McGarrett." The M.E. adjusts his glasses like some stereotypical college professor. "Scientific data suggests that every human alive today can trace his or her matrilineal descent back to the same woman, known as Mitochondrial Eve, who lived perhaps 200,000 years ago."

Danny just stares in response, but Steve is clearly used to this epic level of nerdy pedantry.

"Okay, let me rephrase. Williams and I could be _closely_ related: half-brothers via my father, to be exact."

Max raises his eyebrows. "Ah, I see. Very well then, gentlemen, let us begin. If you'll allow me to swab your cheek, Commander...and now you, Detective..."

Danny's seen many suspects be swabbed for DNA, with or without their consent, but never expected to have it done to himself. The oversized Q-tip tickles the inside of his mouth, and it's hard to hold still.

"I should have results for you in a few days," Max tells them. "Although it is difficult to obtain absolute certainty when there is no living shared parent to act as a reference point, I hope to give you an indication either way."

Steve opens his mouth, hesitates, and then says, "Samples of Dad's blood were taken from the crime scene and analyzed, right? So you can test us both against his DNA on file."

"Yes, indeed," Max says with a smile. "That will allow for greater accuracy."

"And please, Max," Steve adds, "could you keep this whole thing to yourself?"

"Of course, Commander."

On the way out, Steve tells Danny, "All right, time to talk. Have you eaten? There's a Chinese place nearby."

"Sure," Danny says. "I'm starved."

As they walk, Danny glances sidelong at Steve. The guy seems calmer now than he did at lunch. It might just be the relief of getting the testing underway, but Danny gets the feeling there's more to it than that.

"You look less inclined to shoot me than you did five hours ago. What's changed?"

Steve shrugs. "I lifted fingerprints off your wallet and ran them through AFIS...got a match to Detective Daniel Williams, formerly of the Newark PD, and the file photo matches you too. So the odds seem pretty good that you're not a conman, at least."

Danny stops dead. "Wow; you're clearly a professional paranoiac. You skipped right over the 'trust' part of 'trust but verify', huh?"

"Can't be too careful," Steve says, and keeps right on walking. "I've got a lot of enemies."

Hurrying to catch up – damn Steve's long, powerful legs – Danny says, "Somehow I can believe that. And hey, let me guess: you checked HPD's personnel files as well."

"It's handy, the way job applications are filed electronically these days." Steve's lips quirk up. "Is your middle name really _Proinsias_?"

"Yeah," Danny says, scowling at him. "It's the Gaelic version of Francis. I always thought I was named for my father, Frank, who's Irish through and through. Now I guess it was a way for Ma to link the two of us, even if I wasn't his by blood."

"Did Frank know that, though?"

"Oh, definitely," Danny says. "Pop married her when she was six months pregnant. They put his name on my birth certificate and agreed never to tell me any different, but Ma had a change of heart recently."

Steve nods. "That was my next question. In your HPD application, you mentioned you were moving to Hawaii for your daughter. I called your old department in New Jersey, too, and Captain Novak said the same thing. So is that really true, or are you here because of Dad?"

Danny is impressed, despite himself, that Steve got Novak to talk to him. The grumpy old bastard was never fond of interagency cooperation.

"Yeah, I was already planning to follow my ex-wife here, for Grace's sake. Ma decided to tell me about Jack once my transfer was finalized, in case I got a chance to meet him. But when I looked him up online, I found out he'd died only a month or so earlier. Such shitty timing, you know?"

Steve doesn't say anything, his face a mask, and Danny's usual easy flow of words dries up. He's glad when they reach the restaurant, soon after, and he can focus on something other than Steve's stony grief.

***

A perky waitress comes by to take their orders. Steve gets soup and some spicy chicken and rice thing, while Danny goes for his usual: fried cream cheese wontons, followed by sweet and sour pork. "What?" he says, when Steve grimaces.

"I can hear your arteries groaning from here."

"Hey, gimme a break. We can't all be perfect specimens of –" Danny shuts his mouth, abruptly, and Steve drops his gaze. Jesus, why can't Danny control his mouth better?

"I mean, I get enough dietary advice from my daughter. Being lectured about cholesterol by an eight-year-old is a memorable experience, believe me."

Steve's smile is the most positive emotion Danny's seen from him yet. "Smart kid."

"Yeah, Gracie's real smart; she's just amazing."

"So how long have she and her mom been in Hawaii?"

"Rachel moved out here in August to join her new husband – he's a property developer. Apparently being married to a millionaire is all sunshine and pineapple pie, compared to living with a detective."

Avoiding Steve's intent gaze, Danny focuses on dipping a wonton into its tangy-sweet sauce. He didn't mean to let his bitterness show, but there's something about Steve that makes him want to open up.

"My mom didn't seem to mind being married to a cop," Steve says, after a long moment. "I think she preferred it, even with the long hours and the risks, to when Dad was in the Navy and away for months on end."

Steve bites his lip, then, and his train of thought is easy to follow: the DNA tests may reveal that Danny was conceived during one of those tours of duty.

"All right, start talking," Steve orders. "First off, where and when were you born?"

It's weird to be on the receiving end of an interrogation, especially in a Chinese restaurant, but it's been a day full of weirdness. So Danny resettles himself in the hard plastic seat and begins.

"I was born March 20, 1976, in Newark, New Jersey. But apparently I was conceived in Boston during Fleet Week."

"You're just a few months older than me, then," Steve says. "And I'm pretty sure Mom got pregnant with me soon after Dad was discharged and came home for good."

Danny nods. "So here's what Ma told me, last week. In July of '75, she was waitressing at a waterfront bar in Boston. The place was swarming with sailors and I guess many of them flirted with her, but one lieutenant caught her eye. He was older, a man instead of an overgrown boy, and he had the most incredible blue eyes. He said his name was Jack McGarrett, and he was from Oahu, Hawaii."

Their mains arrive, then, and Danny keeps talking in between bites.

"Ma says he told her all about Hawaii, and how beautiful it was, and how much she'd love it here. He walked her home every night, until finally...well, you can figure out the rest.

"Jack said he'd be getting out of the Navy soon, and promised that he'd come back for her. She was young and naïve and infatuated with him, and she believed it. But when Ma realized she was pregnant, she wrote him letter after letter, care of the Navy. There was no reply."

Steve winces, and Danny feels bad for shattering any illusions he had about his late father. "Maybe he never got the letters," Steve suggests.

Danny spreads his hands. "Who knows? Anyway, she kept waiting to hear from him. And in the meantime, her old-fashioned Italian parents were making her life hell. They were gonna kick her out of home, even disown her, unless she got married or adopted the baby out."

"Damn," Steve says. "So I'm guessing this is where Frank enters the picture?"

"Yeah. Ma and Frankie Williams had been friends forever; they lived on the same street, growing up. He'd always loved her, but was too shy to ask her out. So when she told him, he offered to marry her and raise the baby as his own. Ma wanted out of Boston, to escape from her family and the social stigma, and Frank had relatives in Jersey. So they moved down to Newark, got married, and had me."

Steve pushes his half-eaten meal away; Danny can understand why he might have lost his appetite, hearing all this.

"And you never suspected anything?"

"Well, I don't look much like Ma or my younger siblings. They're all typically Italian – dark hair, brown eyes. But Pop's coloring is much lighter. His eyes aren't as blue as mine, so I always figured I was a throwback to some earlier generation of the Williams family. When I saw your dad's photo, though, it made more sense."

"You do look a little like my sister," Steve admits. "She's blonde too, but her eyes are greener."

"That's Mary, right? Jack's obituary said she was living in California."

Steve sighs. "Yeah. She didn't come home for Dad's funeral, and I don't think she ever plans on setting foot here again. I haven't seen her since Mom died, nearly 20 years ago."

"Shit," Danny says, "that's rough. I sometimes wished away my brother and my sisters, growing up; our house was crowded and money was tight. But we're all pretty close, now."

"So do your siblings know that Frank's not your biological father?"

Danny shakes his head. "Ma and Pop said it was up to me whether to tell them or not. But I decided it was just too much to deal with, on top of getting ready to move 5,000 miles away. I might do it next year, if I can afford to go home for the holidays."

"Have you told anyone else?"

"Nope, not even Rachel or Grace." Danny looks Steve in the eye and says, "Hey, don't worry. I'm not out to trash your dad's reputation."

"Really? If what your mother says is true, you've both got cause to be angry with him."

Leaning back in his chair, Danny thinks for a long moment.

Then he says slowly, "If Jack was still around, and I knew for sure that he ignored Ma's letters and never tried to help her? Then yeah, I'd be pissed off. But I've already got a father back home, a great guy who raised me and treated me like I was his own. So it's not like I'm feeling traumatized or deprived; if anything, I love Pop even more now. And Ma didn't sound mad with Jack when she told me, just kind of wistful, so I'm not seeking revenge on her behalf either. All I want is the truth, because I hate leaving puzzles unsolved."

Like always, speaking out loud helps Danny untangle what's in his head. It's almost surprising to realize how little animosity he bears towards Jack, but hating the dead seems like a total waste of energy. And Danny's carrying around enough anger already, God knows.

Steve nods. "So if the tests come back positive, you're saying there's nothing else you'll want from me? No share of Dad's estate, no public acknowledgement?"

"Again with the paranoia...Steve, I'm not after your money, and I'm not asking you to tell the world," Danny says firmly. "But I do need to get a family medical history, for Grace's sake as well as mine. If possible, I'd want to find out a little more about your dad. And I'd like to get to know you, too, even if you can't accept me as a brother."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see," Steve says, his expression unreadable.

Steve's long since finished eating, and Danny's own food is now cold and congealed. Danny wants to keep talking, keep trying to build some kind of real connection here, but Steve is just too closed off. He's offered no information about himself, all night, and doesn't seem likely to start now.

So Danny says, "Hey, I should get going. It's been quite a day, and I have unpacking to do."

Steve nods, and waves the waitress over. Once they've paid for their meals, separately, the two of them head outside.

"Can you find your way from here?"

"Yeah, no problem." Danny stretches his back out, glad to be free of that uncomfortable chair.

Steve looks away, rubbing his jaw. "I'll, uh, let you know when Max gets some results."

"Thanks. 'Night, Steve," Danny says. Steve strides off without saying goodbye, and Danny watches him go. He'd like to claim that he wasn't staring at Steve's ass, but he's too tired to lie to himself.

Despite everything, he still feels just as drawn to Steve as he did the moment they first saw each other. And though he'd set out today to learn more about his biological father, now Danny's not so sure he wants to be Jack McGarrett's son.

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** R for non-explicit sexual content and references to violence.
> 
>  **Warnings:** in addition to the story's overall warnings, this chapter contains non-graphic descriptions of a fatal hunting accident and discussions of racial prejudice.

Danny wakes up the next morning with one hand wrapped around his cock. His dream quickly fades away, but he has a terrible feeling that Steve had a starring, X-rated role in it. Teeth gritted, he ignores his erection and doesn't jerk off in the shower like normal. Dreaming of his half-brother is _far_ from normal; Danny won't give his sick and twisted unconscious mind any encouragement.

Three hours later, he's had two cups of coffee and – as mandated by HR – has skimmed through HPD's procedures and conduct manual. Danny is pleased to see that the anti-homophobia rules are much stronger than his old department's measures. He mostly dates women and isn't planning on coming out anytime soon, but it's still an encouraging sign.

As he reads, Danny can't help noticing that most of the detectives are giving him a wide berth. He's the only white face in this bullpen, a minority for the first time in his professional life, and he's feeling the chill despite the warm weather outside.

The tension becomes even more obvious when Danny heads to the break room for more coffee and a snack. He stands at the vending machine, counting out change and contemplating his choices. Kaleo, one of the older guys, comes up behind him and says, "Hurry the fuck up, pilau haole."

A couple of the others laugh, while the rest look on silently. Unsure of his ground, Danny says nothing and retreats empty-handed.

Back at his desk, he immediately goes googling. A search for that first word just brings up some kind of Middle Eastern rice dish, which is weird, but 'haole' seems like a common and controversial term. Though several sites say it simply means 'non-Hawaiian' or 'Caucasian', the second result is a Wikipedia page entitled 'Kill Haole Day'. Fucking _great_ , he thinks, and closes his browser window.

Danny stops by Reyes' desk around noon, and finds her compiling monthly statistics – the bane of every cop from Hoboken to Honolulu. "Hey, can I buy you lunch?" he asks. "I'm trying to figure this place out, and I could use some help."

"Yeah, sure. I'm going cross-eyed from all these numbers, anyway."

"So I'm feeling distinctly unwelcome in the bullpen," Danny says bluntly, once they're at the food court of a nearby mall. "Is it because I'm new to Hawaii, or because I'm white, or because I took a job someone else wanted?"

"All of the above," Reyes says, and deftly maneuvers a piece of sushi into her mouth.

"Well, what can I do about it? I'm not expecting some instant buddy-buddy thing, and I know trust has to be earned. But I'd like to be sure you guys will have my back in a firefight, you know?" Danny gestures eloquently with his plastic fork, and adds, "I have a daughter to think of, here."

"Okay, let's start small." Reyes points her chopsticks at his neck. "Lose the noose, first of all. Dress more lightly and more casually, period, or else you're gonna sweat like crazy once the weather gets hot."

Danny chokes on a mouthful of egg fried rice. It's at least 80 degrees out today, which to him already feels like summer. Still, he takes her point...and maybe she's got a point about the tie as well. It's so much a part of his daily attire he hadn't thought twice about putting it on, but none of the other male detectives wear one.

"Your feet will stink in those leather loafers, too," she continues. "And anyway, HPD's jurisdiction covers the whole island, not only the city. So the job takes us to beaches, to mountains, and plenty of other places where nice shoes just aren't suitable."

"These are highly useful suggestions, and I appreciate them," Danny says. "But no matter what I wear, I'll still be white and that'll still be a problem."

Reyes sighs, putting down the chopsticks and running both hands through her short brown hair.

"Look, I can't deny that a few people will be prejudiced against you no matter what. For the rest of us, though, it's really more about attitude than skin color."

"What attitude?" Danny interjects. "I said 'Hi, nice to meet you' to Kaleo when we got introduced yesterday, then he spent the whole day out on a case. And the first I saw of him this morning? He swore at me for delaying his snacks purchase by all of ten seconds. I don't know exactly what 'pilau haole' means, but don't tell me my _attitude_ earned me that insult."

"Yeah, okay, Kaleo's an asshole," she admits. "But just shut up and listen for a minute. We've had plenty of mainlanders show up at HPD before – mostly Feds, plus a few transfers like you. They usually insist their approach is best, ignoring our expertise about the local people and the local conditions. Some of them dismiss Hawaiian culture; some even mock how we talk. It gets real old real fast, you know? So don't be surprised if the guys assume the worst of you, to start with. Make an effort to fit in with us, to learn our ways, and prove them wrong."

Danny blinks at Reyes as he absorbs all this. He wants to protest that he wouldn't be so arrogant or disrespectful...but yeah, it's true that he's used to East Coast ways of getting shit done. He's used to expressing forceful opinions, too, and he can see how that might be interpreted as the ignorant newcomer mouthing off out of turn.

Finally, he says, "Okay, I'll try. No guarantees about keeping my mouth shut, but I can keep my eyes and ears open." Feeling uneasy, he takes the conversation back a step. "So who wanted my job, and how worried should I be?"

She shrugs. "A few guys from Vice and Narcotics hoped to make the step up, but the brass wanted someone with more experience. And some of the Homicide squad are still pissed that Meka Hanamoa jumped ship to Five-0; they might take that out on you, since you're his replacement."

"Was Ahuna one of them? He seems real bitter about that taskforce."

"Yeah. Ahuna's got five years' experience on Meka, and thought _he_ deserved that bump in pay and status. But SEAL-Steve liked Meka's style, they worked well together on his dad's case, and the rest is history."

"SEAL-Steve?" Danny repeats. "You call Commander McGarrett that?"

"Not to his face. But you should see him in the water, brah," Reyes says, expression suggesting she's revisiting an enjoyable memory. "He swims like he was born to it. And God, those tattoos..."

Danny has a sudden mental picture of what Steve might look like in swim trunks, all long limbs and lean torso and inked skin. It's followed by a wave of nausea – Jesus fuck, what is _wrong_ with him? Danny puts down his fork, no longer hungry, and takes a prolonged swig of soda to hide his face from Reyes.

"So does everyone in HPD hate these Five-0 folks, or what?"

"There's a lot of resentment, yeah." Reyes chews on her lower lip. "Personally, I don't think it's entirely justified: they use unorthodox methods, sure, but they get results. In less than two months, the four of them have caught a whole bunch of killers, shut down a forced prostitution ring, and helped prevent a serious gang war."

Danny whistles. "Wow, they have been busy."

"Yeah, McGarrett doesn't seem to have an off-switch. He still operates like a soldier, but Meka's trying to teach him police procedure as they go. I think Chin is helping with that, too; even if he is dirty, like the brass alleges, he's a veteran and he knows his shit. And his wife Kono is fresh out of the academy, but she's been around cops all her life."

Having a couple on the team must make for an interesting dynamic, Danny thinks. Back home there were a few guys whose wives also worked for the department, but always in some kind of office job instead of out in the field. And if any of Newark's male detectives were romantically involved with each other, they kept it on the down low.

"Do you guys work closely with Five-0?"

"Not much," Reyes says. "We've had a couple of big situations, requiring all hands on deck. Mostly, they do the investigating and get unis to do crowd control or boring legwork."

So it sounds like Danny won't see much of Steve, on the job at least. He doesn't know whether to be thankful or disappointed.

She tilts her head, studying Danny's face. "Why are you so curious about them?"

He shrugs, deliberately casual. "It's good to know the lay of the land, in interagency terms. If I'd transferred anywhere else in the US, I'd be asking about cooperation between the local PD, the county sheriff, and the state police. Here, it's just you guys and Five-0."

Reyes' phone rings, then, saving Danny from any more awkward questions. She listens for a few moments before hanging up.

"Homicide over in the windward hills; looks like a hunting accident. Captain Makaha wants you to roll with me."

As they head to her car, Danny asks, "So are we gonna be partnered up permanently?"

"Looks likely," Reyes says. "It'd make sense, since Meka was my partner before SEAL-Steve poached him."

Danny nods, relieved. He doesn't know yet how good Reyes is as a detective, but he likes her and thinks she's someone he could come to trust. "That'd be cool with me," he says, fastening his seatbelt.

She flashes him a grin and peels out of the parking lot.

***

Reyes clearly knows this island inside out – she drives _fast_ , even on the narrow mountain roads. Danny holds on for dear life, and tries not to break his no-puking streak.

After a 20 minute drive that would've taken Danny twice as long, Reyes pulls up at the end of an unpaved side road. The trees clinging to the valley's steep sides are a lush green, even in November. Danny knew, intellectually, that Hawaii was tropical and that the usual seasonal changes didn't apply, but it's still weird to see.

And it's hard to believe that such rugged wilderness exists so close to a major city. Beyond the two patrol cars already here, there aren't any signs of civilization: no power lines, no houses, and no cell reception either.

His family didn't do much outdoorsy stuff, when Danny and his siblings were growing up, and there was never enough money for summer camp. So Danny is way out of his comfort zone, here. He's only seen forest like this in movies, where nothing good ever happens to people who go looking for a dead body.

A patrolman approaches and tells Reyes, "The vic is Mikala Campbell from Wahiawa, aged 20. The 19-year-old who shot him, Joseph Keahi, is still at the scene. It's about a quarter hour's hike up that trail, then turn left at the waterfall and follow the yellow tape."

At the sight of the uni's mud-covered boots, Danny swears quietly. His favorite pair of loafers are about to get ruined, and it's only his second goddamn day.

Reyes kindly doesn't say, 'I told you so'. Instead, she pops the trunk of her car and rummages around. "Hey, you're in luck. My husband left some old sneakers in here, and I think you're about his size."

The Chucks are battered and sand-encrusted, but they fit well enough. "Thanks, Reyes," Danny says. For good measure, he pulls off his tie and leaves it in the glove compartment, then unbuttons his shirt collar and rolls up his sleeves.

Reyes nods. "Much better – we'll get you looking all kama'aina yet. That means local, more or less," she explains, when Danny just blinks at her.

"So kama'aina is the opposite of haole?" he asks, hoping to find his linguistic bearings.

"Nope, not that simple: some white people can also be considered kama'aina."

Danny sighs. He'll have to start a vocab list in his notebook, just like when he was trying to pick up Spanish as a beat cop back home.

"McGarrett's a good example," Reyes adds. "He was born here, speaks pidgin, and respects Hawaiian ways."

As the two of them hike up the hill together, Danny contemplates what might have been. If Jack hadn't already been married to Steve's mom, maybe he'd have come back for Ma and brought her out here. Then Danny would've been the one to grow up as a kama'aina haole.

But in that scenario, Danny and Rachel's paths wouldn't have crossed in Jersey...Grace would never have existed, and he can't bear to think of life without his little girl.

Reyes is setting a pace that Danny struggles to match. He'd cut down on gym time during his last few weeks at home, in the mad rush to get ready to leave. He'll have to check out HPD's work-out room, since he's not keen on jogging in this heat.

Steve probably runs up mountains like this for _fun_. Danny's fucked-up brain provides a vivid image of Steve in shorts and a wife-beater, muscled chest slick with sweat and tanned throat working as he gulps down water. Danny digs his fingernails into his palms, and keeps walking.

***

When Danny heard 'hunting accident', he assumed someone with a rifle had fired at a deer and hit a person instead. But the dead man lying between a bamboo grove and a dense cluster of tree ferns has an _arrow_ embedded in his throat.

Danny sure as shit ain't in Newark anymore.

"What do people hunt, here?" he asks Reyes. Though he's tempted to make a crack about prehistoric tools, their conversation over lunch is still fresh in Danny's mind. Anyway, the large bow lying nearby looks remarkably hi-tech.

"Wild boar, mostly – the meat tastes great," she replies, gazing around the scene. "They're an introduced pest, so culling them is encouraged. My dad loved to hunt, but he mostly used a gun."

A young guy with long black hair and a tear-stained face is slumped against a tree, knees pulled up to his chest. This is Joseph Keahi, Danny presumes. A patrolman is crouched at his side, but at a nod from Reyes he moves away. Danny hangs back to watch her work.

"Hi, I'm Detective Reyes. Can you tell me what happened here?"

Keahi looks up at her. "I came up early this morning to do some solo hunting. I wasn't having much luck until I spotted a big _pua'a kane_ headed for that wallowing patch over there. I took a shot at it, but I missed and hit my buddy Mikala. He's so good at stalking, so damn quiet – I didn't even know he was there, I swear!"

"What did you do then?"

"I rushed over to him, but it looked real bad...blood everywhere, and he wasn't breathing. So I ran up to the summit to get reception, and called 911. But when I made it back down here, Mikala was dead." The kid's eyes well up again.

"Why weren't you guys wearing those bright orange vests, or even just an orange cap?" she asks.

"This valley is a bowhunting-only zone," he tells her, wiping at his face with shaking hands. "Hi-vis clothing isn't required, so most of us wear camo gear instead."

Reyes nods. "Okay. Show me where you were when you took the shot?" He points at a clump of bushes a few yards away, and she directs the newly-arrived CSU team to start photographing that area.

Once Keahi's been led away by two patrolmen, Danny asks Reyes, "Think it really was an accident?"

She shrugs. "He seems pretty remorseful, either way. But once we're done here, we'll talk to family and friends and check in with the lab. If there was a beef between them or if the forensic evidence doesn't add up, we'll dig deeper."

As they're documenting the scene – even with his borrowed shoes, Danny is glad that Reyes volunteers to follow the boar tracks through the mud – Max shows up for the body. Danny would've thought it funny to see the nerdy doctor out of his element, except that Max looks totally at home in the wilderness. Maybe he was a Boy Scout, in between dissecting dead animals or whatever an aspiring M.E. does for kicks.

Danny shakes his head slightly, while Reyes has her back turned, and Max taps the side of his nose in a conspiratorial fashion. So when she makes the introductions, they both pretend not to have met before.

It goes against Danny's nature to keep things from a partner: Chris, his partner of five years back in Newark, was his best friend and knew all his secrets. But being Jack McGarrett's son isn't entirely Danny's secret to tell. He could give Reyes the story about Jack being an old family friend, maybe, and admit that he's already met Steve. He's not the world's best liar, but hopefully he could talk about Steve without giving anything shameful away.

Reyes is smart and perceptive, though, and Danny bets she's persistent as hell. And as so many criminals have discovered, telling a detective only part of the truth tends to bite you in the ass eventually.

***

By the end of the day, Danny's worn out.

He and Reyes notified Mikala Campbell's parents, first of all, a duty that never gets any easier no matter how often Danny does it. Despite their shock and grief, the couple swore that Joseph Keahi was one of their son's best friends and had no reason to kill him. Several of the vic's other buddies said pretty much the same thing; some had hunted with Campbell before, and agreed that he really was stealthy as hell when tracking his prey.

Then the two of them formally interviewed Keahi down at the precinct, getting a detailed account of his actions before and after firing the fatal shot. He was eaten up with guilt, but vehemently denied that he'd wanted Campbell dead.

Reyes seems satisfied that it was a genuine accident, unless CSU and Max say otherwise, and Danny's inclined to agree. As Keahi has a clean record and was hunting in accordance with state regulations, it seems that the DA will either charge him with involuntary manslaughter – and agree to a lenient sentence – or decide not to prosecute at all.

It's nearly 7pm when they finish up. "Good thing my husband works a steady nine-to-five job and likes cooking," Reyes tells Danny on the way out. "The kids would eat take-out every second night, otherwise."

He just nods, uncomfortably reminded of all the times he made similar comments during his marriage. He'd relied on Rachel to fix dinner and keep the household running, even after she went back to work full-time. When she became increasingly stressed and unhappy, Danny had made an extra effort to come home early and do more of the chores. But it was already too late...the rot had set in.

Danny says goodnight to Reyes, and drives home lost in bitter memories. He's still angry at Rach, for many reasons, but in retrospect it's clear that he failed her in key ways as well. Even if their marriage is dead and buried, he's learned some important lessons for future relationships.

His stomach rumbles as he walks into his apartment. Though he got better at cooking after the separation, out of necessity, Danny's been in Hawaii six days now and still hasn't made a single meal. The kitchen stuff he shipped from Jersey is somewhere among the unopened boxes taking up most of the limited floor space, and he hasn't gone shopping yet to replace what he left behind.

In the meantime, Danny has the local Yellow Pages open on the kitchen counter. He's trying every pizza joint listed, in alphabetical order, and making notes as he goes. So far he hasn't been too impressed, but he's determined to find a decent slice uncontaminated by goddamn pineapple.

While he's waiting for tonight's delivery, Danny carries on with his unpacking. He'd probably keep living out of a suitcase indefinitely, if it was just him, but he has Grace to think of. Though this crappy little apartment will never compare with Stan and Rachel's mansion, he can at least make it a functioning second home for his daughter.

Grace had spent this past weekend with him, a joyous reunion after nearly three months apart, so getting her bedroom ready had been his top priority. It's the rest of the place that's in a state of chaos. But Danny had declared the living room to be a forest of cardboard trees, and let Grace decorate them with Magic Markers to her heart's content.

Now Danny cuts the best drawings out of each carton he empties, and sticks them to the almost-empty refrigerator door. He'd left his old collection of Grace's artwork with Ma and Pop, except for a few extra-special ones that were among the first things he unpacked Thursday night.

His pizza arrives at last – he'd rate it 'not awful', which beats out Sunday night's 'cheese-coated cardboard' – and he washes it down with beer. Yet again, Danny finds his thoughts straying to Steve. What's his favorite kind of beer, and what does he like on his pizza? What is he eating tonight, and is he eating alone?

He wants to know every little thing about Steve, yeah, but there's one question Danny wants answered most of all. If Steve felt the same kind of instant attraction that Danny did, then how the hell are the two of them going to cope with being half-brothers?

Danny keeps unpacking until he's swaying with tiredness, then collapses onto the small lumpy couch that came with the apartment. He's got to buy something better, ASAP, for the sake of his back; it'll have to be a sofa-bed, though, since there's no space in here for a real bed. He'll ask Reyes to recommend a furniture store tomorrow.

Normally Danny falls asleep with the TV on – infomercials provide the best kind of lullaby – but he didn't ship his crappy old set out here and hasn't got a new one yet. He has a clock radio, though, so he lets the soothing sounds of the local NPR station wash over him.

He just hopes he's exhausted enough not to have any more disturbing dreams.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaleo calls Danny a _pilau haole_ – a literal translation might be 'stinking mainlander', but its effective meaning seems to be closer to 'fucking whitey'. If I've interpreted this incorrectly, please do let me know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating / Warnings:** R for non-graphic descriptions of violence.
> 
>  **Author's note:** the bank robbery stuff is not based on detailed research, so please overlook any unrealistic aspects (such as the lack of FBI involvement).

Wednesday morning, Danny's only been at his desk half an hour when word of an armed robbery comes in.

"The Hawaii Savings Bank out in Waianae just got hit, and the security guard was killed," Captain Makaha announces. "Looks like that same crew from last week – and they made another clean getaway. I want everyone who's not working something urgent to go _find_ these bastards."

Since their bow-hunting case from yesterday is still waiting on forensics results, Danny gulps down his coffee and follows Reyes. She explains the situation as they drive out to the island's west coast. 

"We had a robbery around this time last Tuesday morning, in another small town over on the North Shore. Three masked guys stormed in, immediately killed the sole guard with a single shot to the head, and then threatened to shoot anyone who pressed an alarm button or called 911." 

"Jesus – that's one hell of an entrance," Danny says. 

"Yeah, and it worked. None of the hostages alerted us until the coast was clear. The crew got all the cash from the teller drawers, but left the vault untouched. They were out again in just a few minutes."

Danny nods. "Smart move: opening the vault takes precious time, and increases the chance of getting caught. But the drawers would be pretty flush, so early in the day. Banks get local retailers making cash deposits, first thing, and they wouldn't have had many big withdrawals yet."

Reyes glances at him. "Lot of bank jobs back in Jersey, huh?" 

"Yeah; I was in Robbery before moving up to Homicide." 

"We don't see too many, here, and definitely not violent take-overs like this," she says. "It's mostly a lone guy passing a note to the teller. And even that is hard to get away with on an island this small."

"So what leads were there from the first robbery?" 

"Hardly any," Reyes tells him. "No ballistics matches, either here or on the mainland. The crew disabled the surveillance cameras, and managed to wipe the previous footage too. The getaway car was stolen, of course; they abandoned it in a parking garage and boosted another, then ditched that too. The trail ended out in a rural area with no traffic cameras. Plus there's been nothing too useful on the forensics front, so far, and none of our CIs have given us any actionable info either. Seriously, it's like these guys are _ghosts_."

"They're pros – that's for damn sure," Danny says, shaking his head. "Or one of them is, and the others are very good at following orders."

At the scene, they find Ahuna taking lead; he directs Reyes, Lee, and Takahashi to start interviewing the traumatized but unhurt hostages sitting outside. When Danny doesn't get given a task, he says, "Hey listen, I used to work Robbery. Can I look around the scene?"

Back home he wouldn't have stopped to ask, but Danny woke up this morning determined to take Reyes' advice and play nice with his new colleagues. Hell, he's not even wearing a tie.

Ahuna waves a hand at him and says, "Yeah, go ahead. Just keep out of CSU's way." 

The first thing Danny sees when he walks into the bank is the young security guard, Tony Delacruz. He's lying just inside the door, his own weapon still holstered...poor kid was shot before he even had a _chance_ to defend himself. At least he died pretty much instantly.

In Danny's experience, bank robbers try not to kill people unless absolutely necessary: it leaves more evidence, the police investigation is given much higher priority, and the jail sentence for murder is even longer than for plain armed robbery. Of course there are total psychopaths who are willing to kill anyone, or everyone, but luckily they're a whole lot rarer. 

This unprovoked, selective execution suggests a cold and controlled personality, and previous experience too. Clearly the shooter didn't learn his tricks in Hawaii, because HPD would have recognized the M.O. So did all three men – four, counting the getaway driver – arrive on the island together, or did the ringleader relocate and pick up a new crew here?

From the doorway, Reyes tells Danny, "Witnesses confirm the roles played by each robber. The man who killed Delacruz then threatened the staff and customers, herded them all together, and held them at gunpoint. The second guy disabled the cameras and raided the cash drawers, while the third watched the doors. From the physical descriptions, it's exactly the same configuration as last week's job."

"So this probably isn't a copycat crew, then," Danny says.

Reyes nods, then looks over her shoulder and beckons to Danny. "Hey, you were curious about Five-0, right? Well, here come the cavalry now."

A blue pick-up truck screeches to a halt outside, followed by a smaller SUV. Steve gets out of the truck, along with a shaven-headed guy in his early 30s...Meka Hanamoa, Danny guesses. So the people in the SUV must be the married couple, Kono and Chin. The rookie looks to be in her late 20s, while the veteran's gotta be pushing 40. 

Steve's teammates are all highly attractive people. They could feature on the front cover of a _Guns & Ammo_ special edition: 'Hot and Heavily Armed in Hawaii'. But Danny must be fundamentally broken, because he only has eyes for Steve. 

He can't tell Ma this, but there's a part of Danny that wishes she'd never revealed her big secret. Then he could have seen Steve for the first time today, and lusted after him in blissful ignorance. Hearing Steve introduce himself wouldn't have made his stomach turn over, or not in a bad way at least. And if Danny had tested the waters with a little flirtation, a homophobic freak-out on Steve's part would've been his worst fear. 

Steve flicks a brief glance in Danny's direction, now, before heading over to Ahuna. "Oh, man," Reyes says in Danny's ear, "turf war time again. I'd say we could take bets on this, except it always ends the same."

Danny's seen this kind of pissing contest before, between Captain Novak and whichever federal agent had to claim jurisdiction from him. Novak tended to lose, too, but he enjoyed the fight anyway. 

Today's argument ends with Steve striding away, and Ahuna throwing up his hands and calling the detectives together. "Five-0 will take over the hostage interviews," he announces with a scowl. "Go find eyewitnesses who were outside the bank."

***

A quarter hour later, Danny pauses for a moment to check the notes he's taken so far. Steve is standing behind him, just a few feet away. Danny's been trying not to look over, but he can clearly hear the conversation Steve's having.

"Ma'am, we need to know what the robbers sounded like," Steve says to the bank manager, his tone much gentler than Danny expected. "How many of them spoke? Did any of them have accents, or speech impediments, or unusual voices?"

"The one who shot Tony –" she swallows a sob "– he did all the talking. His voice was deep and quite raspy; he sounded like a smoker, and he smelled like one too. I think he was a mainlander, but I couldn't place the accent."

Danny turns to his final witness, an elderly man who was walking his dog as the robbers left the bank. The little fluff bundle is now twining around Danny's ankles and shedding on his slacks. He likes dogs, yeah, but not yappy ones like this.

"Where were you standing when the getaway vehicle drove off, Mr. Kim?" Danny asks. 

Then a hand tugs on his shirtsleeve. Danny wheels around, surprised, to see the bank manager staring at him open-mouthed. 

"That pupule kanapapiki talked just like this guy," she informs Steve, who raises an eyebrow at Danny. In the face of that intent gaze, Danny feels uneasy despite his airtight alibi. He was in a room full of cops during the robbery, after all, and surely at least _some_ of them would vouch for him.

Luckily, the woman adds, "But he was skinnier and a lot taller." Danny offers her a pained smile, while Steve's lips twitch slightly. 

"That's very helpful, ma'am," Steve tells her. "Tell me: have you met anyone from New Jersey before, or been there yourself?"

She shakes her head. "The furthest east I've been was Chicago, for a conference. But the robber didn't sound like the people I met there."

"Okay. So the other men, they didn't speak?"

"Nope, not a word – they just communicated with nods and hand gestures."

Danny turns back to Mr. Kim and continues taking his statement, but his mind is on what the bank manager said. If an East Coast pro has moved to Hawaii, Danny could find out if his style seems familiar to anyone back home. 

But this is Five-0's case, now, and Danny's wary of pissing Steve off even further. He didn't exactly look pleased to see Danny on the scene, and has made no effort to talk to him. 

Solving the case is more important than their personal problems, though, so Danny decides to make some calls anyway. Better to ask forgiveness than be denied permission, he figures.

***

With Steve's team firmly in charge, the Homicide squad is no longer required. Reyes drives back to HQ.

"So that was Five-0, in the flesh," she says. "What'd you think?"

"They sure seem to know their shit – I was impressed." Danny was expecting more of a cowboy approach, but all the interactions he witnessed were calm and professional. "Hey, you said HPD accused one of them of being dirty. What was that all about?" 

Reyes sighs. "A few years back, Chin Ho Kelly was suspected of stealing $200,000 from the asset forfeiture locker. He denied it all the way and nothing was ever proven, but eventually he was forced out. Personally, I still can't believe it. Chin was so supportive when I was the first woman to join Homicide. He was my mentor; he was the cop I respected most." 

Smiling a little, she adds, "I guess Kono didn't believe it either. All the other members of his family turned against him, but she proposed to him the day he resigned."

Danny nods, and then mentally replays that last sentence. "Wait, what? Do you mean Kono was a member of his family too?" 

"She's his first cousin," Reyes explains.

"But they were dating...and now they're _married_?"

Reyes shoots him a sharp look. "Yes, it's legal here for cousins to marry. It's less common these days than it was in traditional Hawaiian society, but nobody bats an eye."

That's so fucked up, is Danny's first reaction. Quite apart from any genetic worries if they ever have kids, it'd be weird to sleep with someone you'd known your entire life. 

But then Danny considers that Pop and Ma had met when they were still in diapers, due to their parents being neighbors and close friends. Yet she was the only girl he ever loved, or at least that's how he's always told the story. Ma took longer to see Pop in the same light, Danny suspects, since theirs was kind of a shotgun wedding. Over time, though, she clearly developed feelings for him. They've been married 35 years, raised four children, and still seem very happy together. 

And anyway...given the feelings Danny's currently trying to fight, he's really in _no_ position to be judgmental about relatives hooking up. 

So all he says to Reyes is, "Huh, okay." 

It's just as well Danny didn't make any mocking comments about only Hawaii and the southern hick states allowing cousins to marry. Because when he gets back to the precinct, a quick google search informs him that it's legal in Jersey, too – in about half the country, actually. 

The Wikipedia page on cousin marriage links to an entry about incest. Danny bites his lip, and closes the browser window. 

***

Danny's been looking forward to this afternoon, when he gets to pick Grace up for their regular weeknight visit. He's already planning to take her shopping, since she was keen to help pick out some things for his new place. They could go see a movie and then grab dinner, after that. Burgers, maybe; Danny is getting a little sick of crappy pizza.

But just before lunch, Rachel calls. "Grace stayed home from school today, with a nasty cold," she tells him. "She's got a sore throat, a cough, a headache, and she's running a low fever."

"Damn." He frowns. "Sounds like the head cold she used to get every November back home, but you could hardly call this winter weather."

"Perhaps you picked up some bug on the plane, and passed it on to her?"

Gripping his phone tight, Danny says, "I just flew 5,000 miles to get here, for my daughter's sake, and now you're saying it's my fault she's sick? Jesus, Rach, that's _low_."

"No, I'm not saying that," Rachel sighs. "I was merely suggesting one possibility. Kids are germ magnets, so she could have got it anywhere."

"Okay, fine," Danny says, after counting to five in his head. "So you think we should cancel my visitation tonight?"

"I do, yes. I know you're perfectly capable of taking care of her, Danny, but it's probably best to keep her settled while she's feeling so rotten. You can come over after dinner, though...and if she's doing better by Friday, how about you have her for both nights this weekend?"

"Yeah, that'd be good," Danny concedes. "Can I talk to her now?"

"She's asleep, but I'll call you back once she wakes up."

Once he's hung up, Danny is embarrassed to realize that several other detectives overheard that conversation. But Lee gives him a knowing smile from the next desk over and says, "Any phone call from my ex makes my blood pressure go up, and last-minute custody rearrangements are the worst of all."

"Yeah, for sure." Danny spreads his hands. "I just spent three months apart from my only daughter, missing her like crazy. And now Gracie's sick, and Rachel's first assumption is that I'm to blame because I _breathed_ near her." 

Takahashi leans against Lee's desk and says, "Man, that's rough. The longest I've ever gone without seeing my two boys was a couple of weeks, and that was hard enough."

Danny nods, somewhat cheered by their sympathetic response. His old partner, Chris, had been a pillar of strength throughout the divorce. But as a happily married man, he couldn't truly understand.

"So how many kids have you got, Lee?" he asks.

Lee, Takahashi, and Danny spend the next few minutes talking about their children, with pictures pulled out of wallets as visual aids. Reyes doesn't join in, but she's smiling slightly as she types up her interview notes. 

***

After lunch, Danny asks Ahuna about checking in with Chris and other East Coast contacts. 

Ahuna shrugs. "You might as well try. We've got sweet fuck all on last week's robbery, to be honest. And unless Five-0 can pull miracles out of their collective ass, they won't find much at today's scene either."

With the time difference, it's already 6.30pm in Jersey. Chris should be heading home about now, unless he's caught a big case, so Danny calls his cell. The ambient noise when Chris picks up indicates that yeah, he's driving.

"Howdy, stranger," Chris drawls. "Missing me already?"

"You better have me on speaker, asshole," Danny says, smiling at the sound of his best friend's voice. "How many goddamn times I gotta remind you about the cellphone ban?"

"Hands-free, Detective Williams, I promise," Chris says in a fake-pious tone. "And my son is riding with me tonight...so ix-nay on the swearing and the insinuations of illegal behavior, if you please."

"Oh hey, kiddo, what's up?" Danny says to Julio. 

"Hi, Uncle Danny," Julio says cheerfully. When Grace was five years old, she always used to get real cranky by evening. But Chris and Angela's little boy is like the Energizer Bunny. 

Chris asks, "So is this a social call, mi amigo, or did you want something?"

"I need help with a case, actually," Danny says, mentally translating his summary into something suitable for little pitchers. As he knows all too well, Julio will ask the meaning of every second word otherwise.

"Some bad men have started visiting small suburban banks, here in Hawaii," Danny begins. "Two banks have been hit in just eight days. Man A walks in, says 'bang', and makes the guard lie down with a sore head. Then Man B empties the drawers but leaves the big piggy bank untouched, while Man C stands by the doors. A lady at the bank they visited today thought Man A had an accent like mine, so I wondered if any of this sounded familiar to you."

"A+ for effort, bro," Chris says, after a short silence in which Julio doesn't pipe up demanding definitions. "But no, it doesn't ring a bell. I'd have heard if three bad men had been pulling that kind of repeat job anywhere in north or central Jersey. You think that lady has a good ear for regional accents?" 

"She's never even been to the East Coast, so I'm guessing not. But I thought I'd call the biggest departments in the tri-state area, to start with, and see if anything pops." 

Danny lists the contacts he already has in mind, and Chris suggests a few more names which Danny notes down. "These guys must be real good, Danny, if you're trying this scattershot approach."

"Yeah – Man A's gotta have a solid track record, at least, which is why I'm thinking his M.O. might have been honed back east."

"What's M.O. mean?" Julio asks, and Danny laughs.

"I'll leave you to field that one, Chris. Thanks, buddy."

"Stay safe out there," Chris replies.

***

Calling Chris when he's off the clock is one thing; bugging other LEOs up and down the East Coast is not so kosher. 

This five-hour time difference is seriously annoying. So far Danny's been able to talk to Ma and Pop only once, last Sunday. And since Grace was with him, he didn't mention his plan to find out more about Jack McGarrett's life and death. He'll hold off on calling them again until he gets some news from Max. 

Maybe Danny can't work the phones today, but he can check if other bank hostages noted the ringleader's accent. With Reyes' help, he pulls together the statements from the previous robbery and the raw notes from today's interviews. 

The witnesses who mention the shooter's voice all agree that he was no local. One woman has a friend from Philadelphia, and claims this guy's accent was similar. Two suggest he was a New Yorker, while three others think he sounded like someone off _The Sopranos_. Danny grits his teeth; at least they didn't mention that fucking awful 'reality' show, where almost none of the 'stars' are even from Jersey. 

It's still a big area to cover, but it firms up Danny's resolve to start making calls first thing tomorrow.

Reyes has gone back to working their hunting case, writing up the report for the DA's office. She asks Danny to head over to the lab for an update, and he's glad of an excuse to stretch his legs. 

In Newark, the forensics folks were crammed into the precinct's basement. Here, though, they're in a spacious lab one floor up from Max's office. Danny thinks of stopping by to see if the test results are done yet...but in his experience, M.E.s _hate_ being rushed. And anyway, the guy's probably been swamped with more important work.

Up in the HPD lab, a friendly tech called Charlie Fong shows Danny the pictures and measurements they got from the scene. The evidence indicates Keahi had been stationary for quite a while before the shooting, so he wasn't following Campbell through the forest. And a reenactment suggests it would've been very tricky for vic and perp to spot each other through the dense foliage, especially in camo gear. 

"So it does seem like an accident?" 

"Yeah, I'd say so," Fong confirms.

Danny nods. "Okay, great. Hey, one more question for you. I'm working an angle on the bank robberies, and I was wondering if any surveillance footage got retrieved from the scenes."

"Nothing from Tuesday's robbery," Fong says. "As well as disabling the cameras, the thieves shot up the security desk's computer. I couldn't get any data off the hard drives and there was no offsite back-up."

"What about this morning's job?" Danny asks.

"The computer evidence went straight to Five-0, so I guess Chin is working on it – he's their tech genius. Want me to check with him?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Fong makes the call, and puts it on speaker phone.

"I haven't been able to pull anything off the security system yet," Chin says, in response to Fong's question. "A well-placed bullet can do fairly severe damage to a computer. There could be a work-around, but it'll take some time."

Danny leans forward and says, "Hi, it's Detective Williams here. Any chance of getting just the audio feed?"

"It's possible, but not that likely. Is there something in particular you're looking for?"

Explaining about the bank manager recognizing his accent, Danny ends with, "Now, all Jersey accents may sound the same to folks here – hell, maybe all East Coasters sound alike, from this far away. But trust me: even between East Orange and West Orange, there's a difference. If this scumbag's from my neck of the woods, I'd be able to tell."

"That could be very helpful," Chin says. "Give me your number, and I'll let you know if I get anywhere with the data retrieval."

Danny's on his way back up to the bullpen when he gets a call from Rachel's cell. 

"Hi, Danno," Grace says in a croaky voice. It hurts him to hear her like that.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says. "You don't sound so good."

"My throat hurts, but Mommy got me some shave ice." 

"Oh, yeah? What's shave ice? Is that when you get shaving foam and mix it up with water, and stick it in the freezer?"

She laughs, but it turns into a cough and he winces in sympathy. "No, it's like a snow cone. I got grape flavor and it turned my tongue purple."

"Awesome," Danny says. "Hey, listen: your mom and I decided it'd be best for you to stay home tonight, instead of coming to my place. But I'll stop by later, anyway, so I can kiss you all over your little monkey face. You know Danno-kisses have magic healing powers, right? It's a scientific fact."

"But Danno, I might make you sick too," she points out, so sweetly earnest that it makes him smile.

"Don't worry about me, Gracie. You just focus on getting better, and remember how much I love you."

"Love you too," she tells him.

Danny hangs up, leans his forehead against the stairwell window, and closes his eyes. It's been nearly three years since Rachel kicked him out, but there's still an ache every time he has to tell Grace he loves her over the phone instead of in person. And it's even harder when his baby is sick and miserable, and he can't be there to comfort her.

***

It's getting close to 5pm, and Danny's starting to think of heading home. And then he gets a text from Steve. It just says, "Meet me at Max's, 1830."

Shit, the genetic tests must be done after all. Danny's heart begins to pound; he's glad Reyes already left, and can't ask him any tricky questions. 

Once again, Danny and Steve meet in the corridor outside the M.E.'s office. Tension is evident in every aspect of Steve's body language, and his expression is grim. 

"Let's go face the music," Danny says, with a lightness he doesn't feel.

Max must've had a rough day, between the bank robbery this morning and a murder-suicide at a Waikiki hotel this afternoon. Still, he beams when he sees the two of them.

"Your DNA results were quite intriguing, and unexpectedly nuanced," he begins. "I had to run them twice, just to be sure."

Steve folds his arms, frowning. "Okay...and?" 

"First of all, I can state with reasonable certainty that you are _not_ half-siblings."

Danny lets out a breath, feeling both disappointed and relieved – and confused as hell, too. He glances up to see Steve close his eyes and scrub one hand over his face.

"So where's the intriguing nuance, then?" Danny demands, irritated by Max's drawn-out delivery of the news. This might be a fun puzzle to him, but it's pretty damn important to Danny.

"However," Max continues, "you are closely related nonetheless. It seems highly probable that you are, in fact, first cousins on your paternal side."

"What?" Danny looks from Max to Steve, incredulous. "Don't tell me you got an Uncle Jack who was in the Navy, too."

"My father did have an older brother who was a sailor, yeah," Steve says slowly. "But his name was Winston, not Jack. He died when I was just a baby and Dad hardly ever mentioned him, so I'd almost forgotten he existed."

Max nods. "If that man was Commander McGarrett's only paternal uncle, then I am fairly certain that he was your biological father, Detective."

"Winston McGarrett," Danny repeats, just to test how it sounds. 

"He was born in 1940, and I guess my grandparents admired Churchill's stand against Hitler," Steve explains.

"Right. So maybe Winston found it hard to get girls, with a name like that, and borrowed his brother's name to chat up Ma?"

"That could be it," Steve says. "Anyway, Max, I appreciate your help and your discretion." 

"I live to serve, Commander." 

Danny can't tell if Max is being sarcastic, but adds his thanks anyway. It never pays to piss off an M.E.; they're among the few people who could kill someone and get away without leaving any forensic evidence.

Outside Max's office, Danny asks, "Hey, is there a McGarrett family Bible, or some kind of family tree? Because that might confirm whether you had any extra uncles you don't know about."

Steve looks thoughtful. "Yeah, there's an old Bible around somewhere...I remember Mom adding Mary's name, when I was a little kid. I'll have a look for it."

"Okay, cool." 

"And I've got a couple of ideas, if you want to know more about Winston," Steve adds. "First of all, I can order a copy of his personnel file. There should be a record of the ships he served on, so we can find out if he really was in Boston for Fleet Week '75."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Would the file mention if he had a wife and children?" Danny thinks he could deal with any number of half-siblings, now, so long as Steve isn't one of them. 

"It should do. I'm pretty sure my uncle was never ashore long enough to settle down, though." 

"But if I'm any indication, he might have gotten a woman pregnant in every port," Danny points out. 

If Jack had been the guy Ma met, at least he would've had the shitty excuse of already being married. If it really was Winston, and he was single, then maybe he failed to respond to Ma's letters because he just didn't give a damn. 

Steve's mouth twists. "Well, I'll let you know if any more of his offspring turn up." 

With a sigh, Danny asks, "So what's your second idea, then?"

"Dad was a total packrat – the attic's full of boxes from his Navy days and his time with HPD. If Winston ever wrote him about your mother, the letter is probably in there somewhere. I needed to sort through it all, anyway, so I'll make a start when I get home."

Briefly, Danny considers inviting himself over to Steve's place tonight. They could look through Jack's stuff together...and maybe even have a conversation over dinner, instead of an interrogation. 

But although Steve seems more relaxed and more civil than before, he's not exactly projecting warm or welcoming vibes. And Danny has to think longer-term: if they have months, even years to get to know each other, then he can afford to give Steve some space now.

Anyway, Danny could use time to adjust too. If Steve is his cousin, and not his half-brother, that reclassifies Danny's interest in him from 'sick and wrong' to 'somewhat disturbing and potentially problematic'. He'll have to consider, very carefully, whether that's enough of a change to make any real difference.

So he just says, "Thanks – let me know if you find anything."

Steve nods. "'Night, Danny."

Hearing Steve say his name, for the first time, sparks a shameful little thrill up Danny's spine. 

"See you around," Danny replies. He walks to his car, slowly, thinking about Steve and Winston and Ma. He's glad he already arranged to stop by Rachel's place on his way home tonight. Focusing on Grace, and trying to cheer her up, should take his mind off this complicated mess...for a while, at least. 

***


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating / Warnings:** R for violence and non-explicit sexual references.
> 
> **Author's note:** despite the appearance of an NCIS team in this chapter, this is not a crossover fic.

By 9.30 Thursday morning, Danny has already placed several dozen calls to NYPD precincts. He's been put on hold, disconnected, and transferred from switchboard to Robbery to Homicide and back again. But he's managed to describe the Oahu crew's M.O. to detectives all over Manhattan and the outer boroughs. 

Unfortunately, the pattern doesn't ring a bell with anyone. Danny crosses the city off his list, and prepares to move on to the rest of downstate New York and Connecticut. 

Then Captain Makaha comes into the bullpen with a grim expression. "There's just been another bank job, out in Kaneohe. But this time we've got two victims instead of one."

Danny's heart sinks. _Fuck_...he should've pushed the envelope and kept making calls yesterday. Even with this crew on a roll, though, he couldn't have imagined them striking again just 24 hours after the last robbery. And his approach was always likely to be a long shot, compared to everything HPD and Five-0 have been doing on the ground.

"Oh, God," Reyes says, "did those bastards put down a hostage as well?"

Makaha nods. "There was a Marine sergeant in the bank when the crew turned up. Apparently he'd gone off-base to run a few errands, still in uniform. He made no attempt to resist; hell, he wasn't even armed. But the ringleader killed the guard and then killed Sergeant Andrews too." 

Kaleo curses in at least two languages, Reyes covers her mouth with one hand, and Danny shakes his head in disgust. That Marine probably survived multiple deployments, earning every dollar the hard way. And now he's returned home only to be shot by some greedy son of a bitch who can't be assed working for a living. 

"Five-0's on the scene already, but be ready to move if McGarrett calls for back-up," the captain tells them, before heading back into his office.

Ahuna taps his fingers against his desk, obviously itching to get out there and _do_ something. "I'm guessing the crew rushed their recon, this time, and didn't realize how many servicemen use the banks in Kaneohe." 

"Or maybe the shooter's such a psycho, he just didn't care," Lee counters.

"Well, he'll care soon enough." There's a hard edge to Kaleo's laugh. "We all know what happens once squids and jarheads are involved; NCIS swoop in and take over. Let's seen how McGarrett likes _losing_ a turf war, for a change."

Danny must look blank, because Lee explains, "NCIS are Navy cops – they investigate when any of their personnel get killed."

"With all the sailors and Marines stationed on this island, we have regular overlaps with NCIS," Reyes adds. "They demand jurisdiction and Makaha's always forced to concede. But I don't think we've seen McGarrett's team square off against them before." 

"Five-0 versus NCIS...sounds like a couple of dueling rappers," Danny cracks, and immediately anticipates a backlash. But it seems like making jokes in the face of tragedy is a universal habit among cops, because Lee and Reyes laugh and most of the others smile. 

"So why wasn't that Marine armed, anyway?" Danny asks.

"We've got pretty strict gun laws here," Ahuna tells him. "Military personnel only get to wear their sidearm off-base when they're on official duties."

Danny nods. "Well, I'd bet you anything the ringleader assumed Sergeant Andrews was carrying. Because back home, he probably would have been." 

***

A quarter hour later, just as Danny's struck out with another Connecticut precinct, Danny gets a call from a local number he doesn't recognize. 

"This is Chin Ho Kelly from Five-0. I've got an audio sample for you, Detective." 

"You pulled something off one of the hard drives?"

"Afraid not," Chin admits. "But one of the Kaneohe bank tellers pressed the 'record' button on her phone, the moment the crew burst in, and hid the phone in her pocket." 

"Brave woman," Danny comments.

"Yeah," Chin says. "A friend of hers works at the first bank that was hit, and told her that the surveillance system got wrecked. So she was trying to get us some evidence."

"Want me to come over to your office to hear it?"

"No need – I can play it for you now." 

Chin puts his phone on speaker, and a muffled recording starts. Danny winces as two gunshots ring out in quick succession; even though there was a silencer on the pistol, it's still pretty loud. Then he listens intently as the ringleader barks instructions at the bank's staff and customers. 

The recording clicks off, and Danny says, "Got it. That's a Philadelphia accent, or maybe Camden in southwest Jersey."

"Detective Williams," Steve interrupts, making Danny jump a little. "This is Commander McGarrett. Do you know anyone in those police departments?"

So Steve wants to keep up the pretence that they don't know each other, even though Danny is no longer Jack's dirty little secret? Fine. Danny doesn't have to like it, but he'll play along. 

"Yes, Commander McGarrett, I do. I was already making a bunch of calls to East Coast PDs this morning, actually...I just hadn't worked my way that far south yet. You want I should keep calling, or give you their details?"

There's a moment of silence. Then Steve concedes, "It'd probably go better, coming from you." At least he doesn't berate Danny for doing unauthorized work on a Five-0 case. 

"Keep me in the loop," he adds, and hangs up without saying goodbye. 

Danny closes his eyes and mutters something uncharitable about Steve, for the benefit of anyone within earshot. But secretly, he's starting to find his cousin's brusque manner kind of _hot_ – and imagining Steve giving him orders in bed makes his mouth go dry. Jesus, just how did Danny's life get this fucked up? 

Trying to put Steve out of his mind, Danny focuses instead on three dead security guards and one dead Marine sergeant. He goes back to work with renewed determination.

First of all, he tries his contact in Camden. Detective Kirkpatrick co-operated with Danny last year, when a couple of Bonnie and Clyde wannabes went on a road trip up the interstate, knocking over 7-11s and liquor stores en route. 

"Yeah, sounds familiar," Kirkpatrick says, after he hears Danny's well-practiced spiel; Danny sits bolt upright. "There was a crew working the Philly area and they operated just like that. They went off the grid about a month back, so maybe they retired to a tropical island and then got bored of tanning." 

"Did your friends across the river identify any suspects?" Danny asks, crossing his fingers.

"I think so, but I can't remember the names. I'd check for you, except our goddamn computer network is down again – the IT department got hit hard by the budget cuts, so it won't be fixed anytime soon. But Tom Zielinski is the guy you want to talk to over there; he was working that case."

Kirkpatrick reels off the Philly detective's number, and Danny says, "Thanks, man; I appreciate the help."

"What the fuck are _you_ doing on a tropical island, anyhow? You're Jersey through and through, Williams."

"Tell me about it." Danny ignores the little voice that argues he's actually half-Bostonian and half-Hawaiian. "But my ex-wife remarried and moved my daughter out here, so I had to follow."

Kirkpatrick sighs. "Well, that sucks balls. Good luck catching your scumbags – show them Hawaiian detectives how it's done, yeah?" 

***

Zielinski sounds close to retirement and jaded as hell, but he comes alive once Danny explains the situation. 

"Congratulations, Detective Williams: I think you just found Curtis Howard, Pennsylvania's most wanted fugitive."

Danny only gets a moment of jubilant pride. Then he's scribbling notes for several straight minutes, as the veteran cop describes the six hits on small suburban banks over a five-week period. The M.O. is a perfect match to the Oahu robberies, except that the physical descriptions of the two silent goons are different.

"We had bupkis on that crew," Zielinski admits. "They were just so fucking _professional_. In and out in minutes, hardly any forensics worth a damn, and no surveillance footage either. And if any of our CIs knew anything, they weren't talking. Then this Haitian punk, Patrice Olivier, showed up at the precinct the morning after the last robbery, and confessed to being the crew's getaway driver." 

"Jesus," Danny says. "What prompted his sudden change of heart?"

"Turns out Curtis Howard, the shooter and mastermind of the whole operation, had just killed the other two after they demanded a bigger share of the take."

"Lie down with the Devil, wake up in hell, huh?" Danny comments.

"Yeah, pretty much," Zielinski says. "So Olivier was shit scared, thinking he'd be next to get a bullet through his skull. It took us a while to negotiate a deal, immunity and witness protection and all, but it was already too late: Howard had skipped town. Olivier swore he had no idea where to, and didn't change his story no matter how hard we leaned on him."

"You find any sign of where he went?" 

"Nope. There's been no activity on Howard's accounts, no plane tickets bought in his name or any known aliases, and he didn't have a passport. So I figured he bought himself a gold-plated new identity, and left the country with all that cash. I got no fucking clue why he'd go to _Hawaii_."

"We'll ask him why, once we find him," Danny promises. "Can you send me a copy of Howard's jacket, plus your files on the bank jobs?"

"Sure. You got a fax machine there? I ain't so good with email attachments and all that online shit."

Danny pulls out one of his brand new HPD cards, and is surprised to find the precinct's fax number listed among his contact details. He didn't think anyone faxed, anymore.

He gives Zielinski the number and then says, "Thanks for all this; I owe you big-time."

The old cop laughs. "Well, my wife's been bugging me forever to take a vacation someplace warm. Maybe once I retire next year, we'll come to Hawaii and lie on a beach for a while. You got a spare room, Williams?" 

"Nope, sorry – my daughter gets the only bed at my place, and I sleep on the sofa. But I'll definitely buy you a beer."

"Make it a six-pack plus Curtis Howard in handcuffs, and it's a deal," Zielinski says.

When Danny gets off the phone, he calls out to Ahuna who's pacing the floor outside Makaha's office. 

"I think I know who our lead robber is. This guy was suspected of half a dozen identical bank jobs back East but never caught, and he's been off the radar for the last month. Question is, do I report this to Five-0 or NCIS?"

Ahuna's lips curve in a slightly vindictive smile. "Tell Five-0 first, and let them pass it on. It'd be good to show McGarrett that old-fashioned detective work can get results, too. Nice job, Williams." 

Danny doesn't appreciate being part of Ahuna's vendetta against Steve's team, but the praise sure is nice to hear. Reyes flashes him a grin and high-fives him as he passes her desk, while Kaleo just frowns.

The fax machine in the corner starts whirring – God, Danny had forgotten just how _long_ it takes – and Danny gets his first look at their prime suspect. 

According to his record, 31-year-old Curtis Howard has been a suspect in various violent crimes in the Philly area since his teens. But he was only ever convicted of a single mugging; sentenced to four years, he was released in April after serving three. There's no mention of bank robbery on his file before that, so the guy must have learned a few new tricks in the joint. 

The file photo shows a tall, lean white guy with brown hair and unremarkable features. You wouldn't give him a second glance on the street, yet apparently Howard has killed a dozen people in the space of just two months. 

Since Danny's not supposed to have Steve's number, he calls Chin back with the news. 

"All I've got are my shorthand notes and the documents Zielinski is faxing over," he explains, "so it'd probably be fastest to explain it in person."

He hears Steve's voice in the background, and an indistinct conversation. Then Chin says, "Can you be at the Iolani Palace in 20 minutes? We'll get the NCIS agents in here too, so you can brief both teams at once."

***

Danny makes it over to Five-0 HQ a little early, and finds the four of them crowded around the central computer table.

He's about to introduce himself when Steve holds up one hand. 

"Hey, guys? This is Detective Danny Williams, who just joined HPD." Steve rubs at his jaw. "And, uh, turns out he's also my first cousin."

The team's reactions would be funny – perfectly synchronized glances flicking from Steve to Danny and back again – except that Danny's reeling too. 

The youngest member of Five-0 is the first to get it together. "Hi, I'm Kono," she says, shaking Danny's hand with a surprisingly strong grip. "Welcome to Hawaii."

"I'm Chin," her husband follows up. "Nice work on finding us a suspect."

"Meka," Danny's predecessor says with a grin. "Reyes has been telling me good things about you. So you're in the family business too, huh?"

Danny makes appropriate replies to each of them almost on autopilot, still shocked that Steve decided to be honest. 

"I'm not sure if we're going to make this connection public knowledge, guys," Steve cautions, "so keep it to yourselves, okay?"

His team all agree. Danny doesn't get a chance to voice an opinion, though, because just then four NCIS agents walk into the room. 

As Steve's counterpart introduces her team to Danny, he notes that the hostile body language between Ahuna and Steve at yesterday's crime scene is entirely absent here. 

That's explained when Steve adds, "Special Agent O'Connor and I cooperated on some investigations when we were both based in San Diego. So instead of involving the Director and the Governor in a messy jurisdiction fight, we're taking joint lead on this one."

O'Connor, an African-American woman in her 40s, is wearing civvies like the rest of her team. Judging by her bearing, though, she had a military career before turning cop – Danny finds himself unconsciously straightening his spine in her presence. He'd pick her two senior agents, an Asian guy and a white woman, as coming from civilian law enforcement, while the younger Hispanic guy has all the eagerness of a recent academy graduate.

Danny's audience listens intently as he relays what Zielinski told him about Curtis Howard. Kono starts scanning the documents into Five-0's system; Chin's fingers fly across the computer screen as he creates an APB and alerts the island's airports and ports.

Once he's outlined the basic facts, Danny gets peppered with questions by the two teams. Between Zielinski's briefing and the faxed case notes, he's able to answer most of them. 

It's Steve's question about where Howard was living in Philly that gives them their next possible break in the case.

"His base was a disused warehouse near the river," Danny reports. "He'd tried to clear the place of evidence before leaving town, but Zielinski's team found some stuff in the trash that might help us locate him here. It looked like he was a heavy smoker, because he bought Marlboros by the carton. And he was a huge fan of Vietnamese food, too...ordered take-out from the same restaurant, pretty much every night."

Mitchell, O'Connor's 2IC, perks up. "I think I've tried every Vietnamese place on this island since I transferred out here," he says. "But none of them can beat my –"

"– Grandma Kim-Ly's cooking," his teammates Bennett and Fernandez chorus along with him; Mitchell grins and shrugs.

"Well, it's true. Anyhow, I can see if any of the restaurants have recently started making regular deliveries to an industrial area."

"Take Bennett," O'Connor orders. "But go in alone if you think the owners won't talk with a non-Asian in the room." 

Mitchell and Bennett nod, and head out. 

Fernandez asks, "Did the getaway driver reveal what kinds of places his boss hung out?"

"Apparently Howard didn't go out much," Danny tells him. "But he used to send his crew out to a bunch of strip joints, to get rid of any sequential bills he noticed while counting the take."

Chin nods. "That's a great way to get the traceable cash back into circulation without attracting attention." 

"So we're looking for two or three locals who've become big spenders at the island's strip clubs since last Tuesday," Kono says. "I can make the rounds, talk to the girls and the bar staff."

"Go ahead," Steve says. "Meka, back her up."

"It's just as well I have a very tolerant wife," Meka says with a wry grin. 

"If Amy complains, I'll take full responsibility," Steve promises. 

Kono doesn't kiss Chin goodbye, but she makes the ASL sign for 'I love you'. Her husband returns the gesture with a smile that makes Danny's breath catch. That's the real thing right there, not just a cousinly kind of affection.

"You know," Chin says, all business again once Kono and Meka have gone, "there's a chance Howard's sidekicks aren't too happy about Sergeant Andrews' death. I'd guess there's more respect for servicemen here than in your average mainland city, since they're such a visible part of island life. Maybe his crew rebelled after the robbery, and he's killed them already. Or maybe they'll break Howard's gag order, and confess to friends and family. It might be worth checking in with our CIs again."

Danny nods. "Want me to tell the Homicide squad, so we can spread the net wider?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "You'll be our official liaison with HPD on this case." 

"Those guys barely know me," Danny points out. "It won't make me any friends if I get special treatment in my first week."

"Considering what they think of us, it's hardly going to improve your cred," Steve counters. 

Danny rolls his eyes at Steve, but ducks into the closest office to call Reyes and explain what's happening.

"Okay, I'll spread the word," she says. "So what's it like inside the lion's den?"

"Ever been interrogated by two ex-military types with sticks up their asses, four experienced detectives, and two peppy rookies?"

Reyes chokes on a laugh. "Better you than me, brah." 

Danny hangs up, and gives himself a moment to just breathe. He looks around the office he's in, and immediately realizes it must be Steve's due to the medals and the model ships.

Still, it somehow seems impersonal. Danny can see no photos of Steve's family, whereas Gracie's picture was the first thing he put on his own desk. There aren't any souvenirs of Steve's travels, either, even though he must have circled the globe over and over.

***

Back at the computer table, Chin is explaining to Steve why he can't run all arrivals from Philadelphia through facial recognition: there aren't any direct flights out of PHL to Honolulu, so passengers have to transit through a variety of other cities en route. 

Danny could've told them that, seeing as how he'd checked every airport within a 100-mile radius of Newark in a desperate search for an airfare he could afford. But he'd rather not admit that his brother Matt, Wall Street broker extraordinaire, ended up shouting him a ticket using air miles he could easily spare.

Instead, Danny points out, "We've got a three-week window when Howard could have traveled, anyway, and no proof that he didn't leave Philly by road and then fly from somewhere else."

O'Connor cracks her knuckles, expression thoughtful. "Okay, let's try another angle. Kelly, can you map where the trail of boosted vehicles ended after the previous two robberies?" 

Chin works his magic, and soon has an image up showing where and when each car was reported stolen and found abandoned. 

"So they hit banks in coastal towns and then head inland, changing vehicles until they reach a sparsely populated area where they feel safe," O'Connor concludes. "Could mean they've got a base up there?" 

"Or maybe they're leaving the last one at a pre-arranged spot, and driving away in their own vehicle," Danny suggests.

"Well, we've got HPD patrol cars out cruising already," Steve says. "Chin, get them to focus their efforts on the central valleys. The last vehicle has probably been dumped by now, but we might get lucky and catch them in the act."

"Copy that," Chin says, and calls dispatch.

"There are no traffic cameras that far out of town," Steve continues, "but we could get images off one of the reconnaissance satellites in geosynchronous orbit over Hawaii."

"You guys have access to _spy_ satellites?" Danny asks. Jesus – no wonder Five-0's got such an impressive solve rate, with all this fancy tech at their disposal.

"Not directly, no, but I have a...friend in Naval Intelligence. She helped us on another case recently, when we were trying to track a killer's movements."

O'Connor grins. "Still fraternizing with Lieutenant Rollins, huh?"

"Yeah," is all Steve says, with a quick glance at Danny. 

It should be no surprise that Steve is taken; even with his assholish tendencies, nobody that attractive could stay single for long. And yet Danny's stomach clenches up, and it only gets worse once he sees the picture of 'Cath' come up on Steve's phone. Damn, she's gorgeous. 

"Are you trying to get me court-martialed?" Lieutenant Rollins says, once Steve's explained what he needs. "We did this a few weeks back and you invented a plausible cover story – scarily fast, in fact. But it'll look very suspicious if I try that again." 

O'Connor leans across the table and says, "Lieutenant, this is Special Agent Vanessa O'Connor of NCIS. I'm requesting assistance with our investigation into the murder of Marine Sergeant Kevin Andrews this morning. Will that cover your ass sufficiently?"

"Yes, thank you," Rollins says, over the sound of her rapid typing. "Steve's really taken this whole 'full immunity and means' thing to heart, and forgets that the rest of us have _regulations_ to follow."

Steve looks like he wants to argue; instead, he reels off the co-ordinates and times they're after. Danny bites his lip in an effort not to grin, but Chin smirks at Steve and O'Connor laughs out loud. 

"Got it," Rollins says. "I'm emailing you the data now."

"Thanks, Cath, that's fantastic," Steve tells her. 

"Well done, Lieutenant," O'Connor adds. "Let me know when you're next in port, and I'll buy you a drink."

"Will do," Rollins replies. "And Steve, _you_ still owe me dinner. Several dinners, even."

Steve grins widely at that. "Yes, ma'am."

His phone beeps as soon as he ends the call, and two sets of satellite footage appear on the computer screen. Last Tuesday's sequence shows a white sedan pull up at a rest area; two guys get out, dressed in black and wearing gloves. They walk to an old green muscle car parked nearby, and take off heading south. The only thing that's different about yesterday's sequence is the make and model of the stolen vehicle.

The images are taken from above, of course, but there's enough of an angle for Danny to recognize the passenger as Curtis Howard. 

Steve claps him on the shoulder; his big hand feels warm through Danny's shirt. "Looks like we're chasing the right man after all – good work, Danny." 

Danny just nods, deeply relieved. He'd had a gut feeling ever since speaking to Zielinski, but it would've been awful to have led the investigation astray and wasted all this time.

Chin identifies the muscle car as belonging to a Tongan guy, Tevita Lomu, and his DMV photo matches up with Howard's pal in the satellite footage. Unsurprisingly, the guy has a record for grand theft auto; he was also suspected of acting as getaway driver in a Honolulu jewelry heist last year, but never charged. Soon an APB for Lomu and his distinctive ride is on its way to HPD. 

Kono calls a few minutes later, and Chin puts her on speaker.

"The strippers were very helpful," she reports. "If we'd asked yesterday, I think we would've been stonewalled. But they're all upset about the Marine's death."

"No surprise there," O'Connor says. "Servicemen are big supporters of Hawaii's sex industry, for better or worse."

"Yeah. So Tiffany and Leilani, who dance at Femme Nu, both mentioned three young guys who first showed up last week. They tipped like rich tourists, but they were definitely locals. And they arrived and left together, each time." 

"You get any names?" Steve asks.

"Nope," Kono says, "but the girls said all three were in, yesterday afternoon, and Meka found them on the club's surveillance footage."

She sends a still image through, and it flashes up on the screen. They all recognize Lomu immediately; after another moment's scrutiny, Chin points to an Asian guy in his mid-20s.

"The guy next to Lomu is Vince Sato," he says. "He grew up in my old patrol district. I busted him a bunch of times when he was a kid, but I thought his spell in juvie had scared him straight." 

Chin brings up Sato's jacket, and shakes his head as he sees the convictions for increasingly serious thefts. 

"Guess he fell off the wagon," O'Connor says. "He was released from jail three months ago, right? Fernandez, call his parole officer. We need to find these lowlifes, and get them to turn on Howard."

O'Connor and Fernandez leave to go pick up Sato, while Kono and Meka head out to Lomu's place. Running the third sidekick's image through facial recognition doesn't produce a name, but he's a minnow compared to Howard anyway. 

Chin, Steve, and Danny stay behind at HQ, trying to come up with other ways of finding a professional criminal who's living under a rock-solid alias and leaving no electronic trail. 

It's a frustrating process – nothing they think of seems to pan out – but Danny still enjoys bouncing ideas off the other two. Chin is a calm, highly competent cop who knows every inch of this island. Danny can see why Reyes likes him so much, and why Steve hired him despite the taint of supposed corruption.

As for Steve himself, what he lacks in policing experience he makes up for in determination, intelligence, and intuition. This case may be the only opportunity Danny ever has to work closely with him, which is a real shame; Danny is surprised by how well their differing approaches mesh.

Danny's not fucked up enough to hope that the manhunt goes badly, so his time with Steve can be prolonged. He's keen to catch Howard, to prevent further deaths here in Hawaii and to give a long-serving detective back in Philly something to celebrate. 

Still...when it comes to Steve, Danny will take what he can get. And if that means he's gaining more enjoyment from this investigation than is healthy, well, nobody else ever needs to know.

***


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating / Warnings:** R for violence; _trigger warning_ for an OC's suicide attempt (please contact me if you want more details before reading).
> 
>  **Author's note:** I'd like to thank everyone who's left feedback on this story so far – I really appreciate your encouraging comments!

The two NCIS agents, Mitchell and Bennett, report in to Five-0 HQ just before noon. 

"We finally struck gold at a Vietnamese restaurant out here in Pearl City. Saigon Supreme has been making daily deliveries to a derelict warehouse at Honolulu Harbor, starting about three weeks ago," Mitchell says.

Danny grins across the computer table at Steve. This could be the break they've been waiting for.

"The owners were reluctant to give this new customer up," Mitchell continues, "because he orders so often and tips so generously. When I showed the delivery driver Curtis Howard's photo, though, he eventually admitted that was the guy and gave me the address: 1840 Waitangi St."

"Good work," Steve says, studying the map Chin brings up on the screen. "Any word from O'Connor and Fernandez?"

"They're still running down the list of places Vince Sato's parole officer suggested. She said to follow your lead on the Howard raid."

"Okay. You and Bennett meet us at the intersection two blocks mauka of the warehouse. Chin, try and find a floor plan for that building and then come join us. Danny, you're with me." 

Danny obeys, instinctively, and within a couple of minutes they're in Steve's truck and on the road. Steve drives even faster than Reyes does, and Danny's frankly relieved when they reach their destination alive. 

Howard's presumed hideout is in a rundown and relatively quiet section of the island's main port. Weirdly, Danny feels more at home down here than he has anywhere else on the island so far. He used to spend a lot of time at Port Newark, what with the number of bodies – mostly Mob victims – fished out of the bay. Honolulu's docklands don't look, sound, or smell all that different. 

Tevita Lomu's green muscle car is nowhere to be seen, and they don't know what Howard drives. There's no steady flow of traffic or pedestrians for cover, so it's not safe to get any closer than the agreed rendezvous point. Danny borrows Steve's binoculars, calls Reyes, and asks her to run the license plate of every vehicle in sight. But none of them can be directly tied to Howard or his crew. There's nothing to do now except sit back and wait.

Danny had thought it might be awkward, being trapped in a vehicle with the cousin he just can't help picturing naked. But after only five minutes' surveillance, he wants to _strangle_ Steve more than he wants to strip him.

"No, seriously...how the fuck does your team put up with you on stake-outs?"

"We actually haven't done any, yet," Steve says, and keeps drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Right. Yeah, I guess you guys are more about shoot-outs than stake-outs."

Steve shrugs, checks his watch again, and takes yet another glance in the rear-view mirror. But the others haven't materialized in the few seconds since he last looked.

Danny sighs. "I get that patience is not your strong point, but would you cool your jets already? We can't even be sure that Howard's in there. He could be having lunch at a five-star restaurant, and tipping like a rock star. He might be up in the jungle, burying his crew – maybe they rebelled like the guys back in Philly, or maybe he shot them just to watch them die. Or he could be inside with a dozen heavily-armed goons, who are watching him roll around in a big pile of cash. We simply _do not know_."

Clearly not listening to a word Danny's said, Steve makes a dismissive gesture. "Chin, Mitchell, and Bennett are taking too long, and Howard might get away. So let's roll already."

"Not without back-up," Danny says firmly.

"We can handle it together," Steve argues. "You'll be my back-up."

Danny stares at him. "Are you _kidding_ me? We've got three highly-trained people en route, the rest of NCIS and Five-0 only a phone call away, and all of HPD just itching to help catch this scumbag. And anyway, we'd be going in blind: we still don't have a floor plan for this building, and we can't get close enough for decent recon. So even if the two of us storm in front and back, Howard could escape through another door or across the rooftops."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but only gets as far as, "I know what I'm doing, Danny –" before Danny cuts him off. 

"No, no, _no_. You are not my boss, you are not my commanding officer, and you don't get to risk my life by pulling some crazy-ass Rambo shit. I have a _daughter_ , okay...do you want to be the one to tell Grace you got her Danno killed for no good reason? She's your flesh and blood too, Steve, whether you like it or not."

That shocks Steve into silence, and he slumps back against the driver's seat. Danny watches him warily, in case he decides to launch a solo ninja raid just to ruin Danny's day.

"So your nickname's 'Danno', huh?" Steve says after a long moment.

"Yes and no. Gracie calls me that instead of 'Daddy', sometimes." Danny points a warning finger at Steve. "Nobody else on the planet gets to, though, so don't even _think_ about it. And don't change the subject, either: will you wait until the others arrive, or do I have to cuff you to the steering wheel?" 

When Steve sucks in a sharp breath, Danny fears he's pushed too far. But Steve exhales, slowly, and says, "Okay, okay – we hold position. Guess I can use the extra time to find out what we're facing in there."

Steve calls Lieutenant Rollins again, this time not putting the phone on speaker as he requests a satellite view of the warehouse. His tone softens as he talks to her, and her reply puts a smile on his face. Danny turns away to keep watch, jealousy leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. 

He's pretty sure Steve swings both ways, judging by the way he initially checked Danny out...God, was that only Monday? It feels so long ago. But even if Danny wasn't a blood relative, he could never hope to compete with Catherine Rollins. She seems smart, funny, and unafraid of the big badass SEAL. 

"Thanks again, Cath, you're the best," Steve concludes, and a thermal image of the building soon appears on his screen. There's just one live body visible, in a sitting position with only the arms moving.

Danny studies the satellite feed. "Think he's counting his cash, eating lunch, or jerking off?"

"Counting," Steve says. "Just before my SEAL team raided a drug cartel's HQ, one time, our recon surveillance showed a group of people making that same repetitive motion. We discovered over a million dollars in that room once we cleared it, plus a huge cache of pure product."

While Danny knew that Steve had done dangerous things in his commando career, it's still a shock to hear him talk about it so casually. And he doesn't know how to respond, either. Steve probably isn't allowed to reveal specific details, and probably wouldn't be interested in hearing about the far less impressive drug raids Danny was involved in back home. 

Luckily, Steve's phone rings and prevents the silence from stretching out. 

"We found the getaway driver, Lomu, thanks to a patrolman spotting his car," Kono reports. "Want me and Meka to start interrogating him, or should we come join the party?"

"It'd be good to have you two down here. Drop Lomu off at HQ, and get some unis to guard him until we get back. And bring your rifle, okay?"

It's as if Steve's willingness to wait for back-up is magically rewarded with a flurry of action, then. A dark blue sedan, of the kind driven by Feds everywhere, pulls up behind Steve's truck; Mitchell and Bennett get out, complaining of heavy traffic on the H-1. And Chin arrives soon after, triumphantly brandishing the floor plans he had to sweet talk out of a city records clerk.

O'Connor calls with more good news, a few minutes later: she and Fernandez have collared Sato, along with his fellow silent goon. 

"He was at a dive bar in Chinatown," she explains. "Finding the last of Howard's sidekicks there too was an unexpected bonus."

Bennett grins. "So were they celebrating a job well done or drowning their sorrows?" 

"Sato seemed pretty miserable – the other guy, Pika Evans, was more of a happy drunk. They weren't carrying and nobody else stepped in to defend them, so it was a pathetically easy take-down."

"Great," Steve says. "Well, I think we've got more than enough people here to arrest Howard. But you're welcome to join us, if you feel you haven't filled your door-kicking quotient for the day."

"No, you guys go ahead," O'Connor says. "We'll get started on processing these two...your place or mine, McGarrett?"

"Iolani Palace's closer," Steve points out.

"Yeah, but we've got more interrogation rooms and holding cells," O'Connor counters. "And I _guarantee_ our coffee is better."

Danny can't help licking his lips in Pavlovian response to that; HPD's coffee is terrible, Five-0's is mediocre, and he's desperate for a quality cup of joe.

Steve glances over at him, and then tells O'Connor, "Okay, you win. Meet you back there after we've hooked the big fish."

***

Once Kono and Meka arrive, the seven of them crowd around the blueprints laid out on the hood of Chin's SUV and formulate a plan of attack. Even in this tense situation, Danny's hyper-aware of Steve's body pressed so close to his left side. It's the most physical contact they've had so far. 

Now the action is imminent, Steve seems to be in his element. He's clearly accustomed to leading people who don't question him, and it's interesting how the NCIS agents – and Danny – automatically fall into line along with his own team. Maybe 'Commander' is more than just a fancy title; maybe Steve's a natural at this.

Danny's heart starts pounding when he pulls his vest on, as always, but Steve looks calm. And yeah, that makes sense...if you've taken down drug cartels and chased shoe bombers around the world, facing one bank robber must seem like a stroll in the park. 

Kono is quite handy with a sniper rifle, apparently, so she takes up position on a nearby rooftop. "I've got eyes on Howard," she reports. "He's on the first floor, sitting in a chair facing the front door. There are piles of cash and a handgun on the table. No electronic equipment nearby that I can see, so if the warehouse has a surveillance system he's probably not monitoring it closely." 

The team makes as stealthy an approach as possible, just in case. Then Steve and Danny burst in through the main entrance, Chin and Meka come in from the side alley, and the NCIS agents take the back. 

"Five-0," Steve barks. "Curtis Howard, put your hands up." His teammates echo the demand, while Mitchell and Bennett identify themselves as federal agents. For a moment, it's a cacophony of shouted orders. 

Their perp stands up, wild look on his face and pistol in his right hand. Danny readies himself to fire, if necessary, but Howard doesn't take aim at any of the six armed people surrounding him. 

Instead, he raises the weapon towards his temple and snarls, "Fuck you – I won't go back to prison." 

But Steve pulls the trigger first, and shoots the pistol right out of Howard's hand. 

Howard screams, collapsing into the chair and cradling his right hand against his chest. Danny and Steve advance, moving carefully in case he has another weapon, while the others hold position with their guns trained on him.

Danny kicks Howard's pistol out of reach; Steve shoves the groaning perp down onto the table, cheek pressed against the stolen cash, and cuffs his hands behind his back. 

"You're not getting out of it that easy, asshole," Steve tells him. Then he grins at Danny and says, "Book him, Danno."

And Danny would berate Steve for borrowing Grace's nickname for him, against explicit orders, except that a) he's still impressed by Steve's shot and b) it's hard to be angry with that high-wattage smile turned on him.

So he just says, "Uh...isn't this a joint Five-0 and NCIS bust? The only HPD detective in the room shouldn't be the one making the arrest, is all I'm saying."

"He's got a point, brah," Meka says with a laugh, holstering his Glock. "No point in muddying up the jurisdictional waters even further."

"Do the Miranda rights even apply when NCIS collars someone?" Danny asks.

"Not with Navy personnel," Bennett tells him. "They're subject to the Uniform Code of Military Justice instead. But yeah, we do Mirandize civilians." 

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Howard growls, still face-down on the table. "Will _somebody_ just arrest me already?"

The paramedics arrive within minutes, and tend to Howard's hand. Turns out Steve's bullet didn't break any bones, or even break the skin – just caused one hell of a painful sting from the impact. It really was a stunning display of precision shooting, the kind Danny couldn't manage except by sheer fluke.

"I thought you'd either kill him, or let him take the shot," Danny comments, as he and Steve lean against the truck and watch the paramedics work. "It'd be quite fitting, Howard shooting _himself_ in the head for a change. And I would've picked you as a 'double-tap first, ask questions later' kind of guy."

Steve shakes his head. "In the field, SEALs make every effort to prevent captured enemy combatants or operatives from committing suicide. And even though all Howard's known accomplices are in custody or deceased, my first instinct was to keep him alive for interrogation anyway." 

"Huh. Well, as a cop, I'd say the victims' families deserve to see him face justice, and that he deserves to spend the rest of his life behind bars," Danny says. "Either way, I'm glad you did what you did."

"I'm still figuring out how to be a cop," Steve admits. "The Navy taught me to act a certain way...drilled me to the point where my responses are pretty much automatic. Now I have to think about things like Miranda rights and probable cause. It's a steep learning curve, you know?" 

Danny is surprised to hear Steve acknowledge any weakness, but he can empathize too. Although adjusting from Jersey to Hawaii is proving to be challenging, at least police procedure is essentially the same. 

"Yeah, but you've put together a great team," Danny says. "Plenty of local knowledge and experience for you to draw on." 

Steve smiles a little. "They're good people, yeah."

Chin and Meka emerge from the warehouse, blinking in the sunlight, and come over to join them. 

"We found floor plans and recon photos on the second floor," Chin says. "Looks like Howard intended to pull more bank jobs before leaving Hawaii. There's a safe up there too, but I couldn't crack it. CSU are on their way to process the place now." 

Kono approaches as well, bullet-proof vest still on and big sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. She could be a _Guns & Ammo_ centerfold in that outfit, Danny thinks. 

"Howard's been given painkillers, and the paramedics say he won't require hospitalization," she reports. "So are we taking him to HQ or to the NCIS offices?"

"NCIS," Steve says. "O'Connor and I will question him together, and then we'll figure out who gets to lay charges first."

"Can I stick around to watch the interview?" Danny asks. He imagines that Steve and his counterpart are both skilled interrogators; it'd be interesting to see them go up against a smart, cold-blooded scumbag like Howard.

Steve shrugs. "Sure."

Danny calls Zielinski as Steve drives westwards. It's 6pm in Philly, but the veteran detective is still at his desk. And when Danny delivers the good news, he's glad for his eardrum's sake that he'd put the phone on speaker. 

"Hey, guys, that motherfucker Curtis Howard's been arrested in Hawaii," Zielinski shouts to his colleagues, and gets loud cheering and celebratory swearing in response. Danny looks across at Steve...and for a long moment, they just grin at each other. 

Then Steve flicks his gaze back to the road, Zielinski demands to know details of the take-down, and the moment passes.

***

Danny's had a lot of unexpected experiences in the week since he arrived in Hawaii, but escorting an armed robber onto the Pearl Harbor naval base is right up there on the list. Though he'd studied the Japanese attack in school, like every other American kid, being here in person feels surreal. 

And then Steve gestures towards the water and says, "My – our – grandfather died here, December 7th 1941. He went down with his ship, the _Arizona_ , and his body is still entombed inside."

"Jesus," Danny says faintly. World War II has always seemed so distant to him; some of his relatives from Boston served, but none were killed that he knows of. 

After a long pause, he asks, "Is there someplace I could pay my respects, even if he doesn't have an actual grave?" 

Steve glances at him, expression suggesting surprise and approval. But he just says, "There's a memorial built over the site of the wreck, plus a monument at the Punchbowl military cemetery. My uncle is buried there...and Dad too, now. I could take you up there sometime, if you want."

"Yeah, I'd like that." 

Danny has more questions to ask Steve, about Winston and how he died, but they pull up outside the NCIS offices and it's time to snap back into work mode. A military transport plane passes low overhead, the roar of its engines making Danny wince. He hopes that the interrogation rooms here are adequately sound-proofed.

Turns out they are, but it doesn't matter too much: sadly, Danny doesn't witness the spectacular battle of wills he'd been hoping for. Howard just sits stony-faced and silent as Steve and O'Connor alternately question, bait, threaten, and insult him. 

Since they're in NCIS territory, O'Connor's agents are leading the other interrogations with Five-0's assistance. Danny wanders between the observation posts, fascinated by the differing dynamics in each room. 

The two team leaders eventually give up on Howard. They may not have gotten anything out of the session, but Danny sure did – there's something about Steve's dominant body language that pleases some lizard part of Danny's brain. He's trying not to examine that revelation too closely, though.

Five-0, the NCIS team, and Danny convene in the bullpen upstairs once the interrogations are completed.

"Sato sang like a goddamn canary." Bennett grins. "When Chin stared him down, he acted like a nervous teenager who'd been caught shoplifting. It was beautiful to watch, I'm telling you."

"Evans confessed too – Meka was the one who broke him," Fernandez says, looking up at the older detective with something like puppy love. Danny hides a smile.

"Well, Lomu held out," Mitchell reports. "Even when we confronted him with the satellite footage showing him, his car, and Howard, he refused to admit a damn thing."

"Well, two out of four ain't bad," O'Connor says. "Good work, team. Go get some chow, then tackle the paperwork."

Danny's stomach growls at the mention of food; he'd enjoyed two cups of excellent coffee while watching the interrogations, but it's long past time for a square meal.

O'Connor jerks her head towards the NCIS conference room. "C'mon, McGarrett. We better go deal with your Governor, my Director, and the US Attorney – time to duke it out over prosecutorial jurisdiction." 

Steve nods at her, and then turns to Danny. "Well, you're free to go. Thanks for your help on this case."

O'Connor expresses her appreciation, too, and the others smile at him. Danny grins back, because...yeah, it was a good day. 

"Hey, you guys want to join us for lunch?" Mitchell asks him and the rest of Five-0. And maybe Danny should hurry back to HPD, but honestly he'd rather stay with these folks and just bask in their collective success for a little longer. 

The NCIS agents take them to a food court on base, where – praise the Lord – there's a place that sells New York style pizza. Danny makes some quasi-orgasmic noises while he's eating, to the great amusement of everyone else at the table.

"You and that pizza should get a room," Kono cracks, and Danny spreads his hands.

"This is the first decent slice I've had since leaving home. So please, tell me: is NCIS hiring? I've only been with HPD for less than a week, but I would jump ship in a _heartbeat_ if I could eat here every day."

Bennett shakes her head. "The four of us are pretty much it for the Hawaii field office, and none of us are going anywhere."

"So how'd you guys end up with NCIS, anyhow?" Chin asks. "Mitchell, you were obviously a detective, and Bennett...I'm guessing FBI?" 

The two agents nod, and Danny is impressed – he'd picked them both as law enforcement, sure, but hadn't gotten the Fed vibe from Bennett. Chin really has good instincts.

"I was with the San Diego PD, and kept running into Agent O'Connor at crime scenes where Navy personnel were involved," Mitchell explains. "We worked well together, and she eventually convinced me to change sides. So when she transferred out here last year, I came with." 

"And I was stationed at the Bureau's Honolulu office," Bennett says. "The SAC and I had some...issues, though. I wanted a change, but didn't want to leave Hawaii – my girlfriend's a local. So when a vacancy opened up at NCIS, I went for it."

Danny risks a glance at the Five-0 team, but nobody seems at all bothered by Bennett outing herself. It's good to know that Steve isn't working with homophobes, even if he's too deeply closeted for it to matter much. 

The rest of lunch passes quickly, with the conversation flowing easily. They swap war stories, like cops tend to do during downtime. But Danny's acutely aware that they're surrounded by men and women in uniform, many of whom have actually _been_ to war. And it makes him think again of Steve, and his abrupt and difficult transition from military to civilian life.

***

Danny gets a ride back to the city with Meka, since Steve's still behind closed doors dealing with the thorny issue of jurisdiction. 

"So...you and Steve, huh?" Meka asks once they're on the freeway. Danny shoots him a questioning look, trying to hide his dismay at being caught out. It's a relief when Meka adds, "When did you find out you were related?" 

Unsure of how much Steve wants his team to know, Danny sticks to the basic truth. "Just this week, actually, and it came as a big shock to both of us."

Luckily, Meka doesn't press for details. "Well, I'm glad Steve's got some family around – he's kinda short on relatives, while the rest of us can't turn around without tripping over them. Would you believe my son's kindergarten teacher is my half-step-first-cousin-once-removed?"

"Wow," Danny says, blinking as he tries and fails to figure that out. "And here I am, with plain old first cousins on both sides that I've never met. Your family tree would be a nightmare to draw up." There's an obvious joke to be made about Kono and Chin's being even more tangled, but Danny refrains.

Meka just shrugs. "Nah, I was raised to keep track of stuff like that: genealogy is important to us native Hawaiians. My parents can each recite their lineage back over 200 years, to pre-European times." 

Danny nods, impressed. He's pretty sure Italian families tend to keep track, too...but because Ma hasn't seen her parents in 35 years, Danny hardly knows anything about that side of his ancestry. He's only met two of Ma's five siblings, and just a few of her many nieces and nephews. It's strange to think that there are other cousins he could unwittingly run into.

As they pull up outside HPD, Danny remembers something he wanted to ask his new partner's old partner. 

"Hey, listen, can you give me a few tips about Reyes? She's been great this week, helping me settle in, and I want to make a gesture to say thanks. Coffee from her usual place plus her favorite kind of donut, maybe?" 

"She loves these little chocolate pastries called coco puffs – you get them from Liliha Bakery over on Kuakini. They're totally addictive." Meka grins. "Actually, if you want to make friends and influence people around here, buy a whole box to share with the squad. And the baristas at Kai's Coffee on the corner know Reyes' order off by heart, so ask them."

"Thanks, man. And one more thing: I haven't told anyone at HPD about me and Steve being cousins, so would you mind not discussing it with her?"

"No problem," Meka says.

Danny walks back into the bullpen to find the other detectives eager for news.

"The captain told us the robbery crew had all been arrested, but not much more detail," Reyes says. "So c'mon, brah: _spill_."

It must be a quiet afternoon, homicide-wise, because most of Danny's colleagues are here and looking his way. So he sits down, and explains how it all unfolded. 

As he's winding up the story, a voice from behind Danny says, "You did good, Williams." It's Captain Makaha, leaning against his office doorframe with a slight smile. "I just got a call from McGarrett, offering to write you a formal commendation for your role in apprehending Curtis Howard's crew."

Danny's pretty stunned to hear that, but he just shrugs. Even though he's proud of himself, it'd be a bad idea to brag in front of this crowd. 

"If Howard had been from anywhere else on the mainland, I probably wouldn't have recognized his accent. It was luck, really; nothing special."

"Well, that's not how McGarrett sees it. But I'd still like your report on my desk, ASAP." Makaha nods at Danny, and heads over to the coffee machine. 

Reyes raises her eyebrows at Danny. "Sounds like you made quite an impression on SEAL-Steve."

"We got along okay, I guess," Danny says, and turns to writing up the case.

Later that afternoon, Danny asks his colleagues' advice about local furniture stores. Reyes, Lee, and Takahashi all recommend the same place for decent but affordable stuff, so Danny heads there first and is glad to find they're having a pre-Thanksgiving sale. No doubt the savings will be even bigger come Black Friday, but Danny's back can't cope with another week on his crappy old couch.

He's helped by a handsome salesman in his late 20s, Zach, who gives Danny not-so-subtle appreciative looks as he stretches out on the various sofa-beds. It's almost a relief to flirt with a normal, nice guy who doesn't surround himself with barbed wire. Zach gives him an additional ten percent discount, throws in home delivery at no extra cost, and writes his personal cell number on the receipt so Danny can call him 'in case you have any problems'. 

Danny grins at him, and leaves the store with a spring in his step. Following up on Zach's come-on might not be the best idea, since he already has enough to cope with right now. And for another thing, it didn't escape Danny's attention that Zach is tall and dark-haired, with blue eyes; it'd be unfair to sleep with the guy because he resembles Steve. 

But the attention felt damn good, and it sure would be nice to try out his new sofa-bed with _someone_. 

***


	6. Chapter 6

There's a long line outside Liliha Bakery at 8am Friday morning, and Danny almost gives it a miss. But the aromas coming from inside are pretty incredible, and Meka's enthusiastic description of those coco puff things has Danny's curiosity piqued. So he waits his turn, and then orders a dozen for Reyes and a single one for himself. 

He eats it right there in the parking lot, and Jesus, it's fucking fantastic. Tiramisu is immediately knocked off its long-held perch: now Danny thinks he'd choose Ma's lasagna and a plate of coco puffs as his last ever meal. And yeah, so maybe he's contemplated this too often...but you gotta do _something_ to stay awake on overnight stake-outs.

Danny's running late, so he doesn't stop off to get coffee. And when he walks into the bullpen, he sees that Reyes is already sipping from a large take-away cup anyway. Her eyes look a little unfocused, like the caffeine hasn't hit yet, but her face lights up when he puts the Liliha box in front of her. 

"Whoa – what's this for?"

"A reliable source told me these were your favorites. I just wanted to say thanks for, you know, showing me the ropes this week."

She swallows her mouthful of chocolate pastry, and smiles at him. "Meka, huh? He knows all my weaknesses. I really appreciate the gesture, Danny, but seriously: you gotta take them away before I eat the whole damn box."

So Danny passes the coco puffs around, finding that Meka was also right about these things being universally popular. As Kaleo and Ahuna are already out on a case, there's enough for everyone and several left for Reyes to enjoy later. 

After all the action of yesterday, Friday turns out to be pretty quiet. Captain Makaha wants that report on the robbery investigation and Howard's arrest, ASAP, so Danny keeps working on it. Reyes is typing something up, too, with a lot of backspacing and muttered swearing.

"Notes for the Diamond Head neighborhood board meeting tonight," she explains, when Danny's curiosity gets the better of him. "The department always sends someone along to this kind of thing – strengthening community ties and all that jazz, which is fine. But it's just hard to find a diplomatic way to say, 'The economy is tanking and you guys are filthy rich, so it's no fucking wonder your mansions are getting ransacked and your luxury cars are getting stolen', you know?"

"Yeah, and I bet it's the same as back home," Danny says. "The people complaining the loudest about spiraling crime rates are the ones who want lower property taxes and state expenditure cuts, right?" She nods, rolling her eyes, and he asks, "So what've you got for them so far?"

"Increasing financial pressures on the wider community are fueling the rise in property offences in your area," Reyes recites. "While these are mostly non-violent crimes, HPD understands that they can be deeply distressing to the victims. Despite our budgetary constraints, we will endeavor to apprehend as many of the perpetrators as possible."

"Very nice." Danny grins at her. "Clearly you majored in reassuring bullshit." 

"Aced every class, brah," she says, and they both turn back to their writing. Danny is so glad he was assigned a partner with a similar sense of humor. God, to think he could have been stuck with someone like Kaleo.

Lee and Takahashi catch a case after lunch, but Reyes and Danny are left to their paperwork for the rest of the day. He turns in his report mid-afternoon, and gets Makaha's permission to leave early so he can pick up Grace. 

She's back in school today, and well enough to spend the whole weekend with Danny as planned. So he goes grocery shopping on the way to Rachel's, making sure to buy actual fruit and vegetables. Since his kitchenware is now unpacked, and replenished with stuff he got at Target last night, Danny also picks up the ingredients for his daughter's favorite: lasagna, made to Ma's special recipe. 

Grace still has the sniffles and a lingering cough, but she greets Danny with an enthusiastic hug.

"Did you catch any bad guys this week, Danno?" she asks as they're driving to his place.

"I sure did, monkey. There was a very bad man from Philadelphia who was robbing banks here in Hawaii, and hurting people. I helped find him and arrest him." 

She tilts her head. "Was the man bad 'cos of where he came from?"

Danny thinks this is an unusually insightful question, for an eight-year-old. But hey: any teachable moment, right? So he's willing to talk – in suitably sanitized terms – about how some kids come up rough in neighborhoods where violent crime is almost the default, while others are raised in a safe and loving environment but just choose to be criminals. Judging from his file, Danny's pretty sure that Curtis Howard falls into the latter category. 

But then Grace adds, "'Cos, you know, I've heard you shout mean things about people from Philadelphia when you're watching sports on TV." 

And Danny's brought back down to Earth with a _thud_.

"Oh...no, sweetheart, that's different," he explains, caught between amusement and embarrassment. "I don't like football players or baseball players or hockey players from Philadelphia, and some of those teams have fans that aren't so nice either. But I'm sure the city is full of truly wonderful people, otherwise. And I think this bad man would still have been bad even if he'd been lucky enough to grow up in Newark, like you and me."

Grace nods, apparently satisfied, and Danny makes a mental note not to watch any more New York vs. Philly games while she's around. He's not sure he can afford even basic cable here, anyway, so he might have to find a decent sports bar to frequent.

Though Danny still doesn't have a TV – he's holding out for Black Friday – he does have a shiny new laptop. It was a farewell gift from his brother, who is generous to a fault. Matty even paid for a tech nerd to set it up with email, Skype, media playing software, and a one-year Netflix subscription.

So after dinner, Danny and Grace curl up on the couch and watch one of her old favorites, _Finding Nemo_. He has a soft spot for that movie as well, since it's mostly about a father's unshakeable devotion to his only child. Danny's not so fond of the ocean when it comes to swimming, but he can deal with the animated version just fine.

***

Steve calls at 8am Saturday and says, "Hey, want to head up to the Punchbowl cemetery today?"

And a good morning to you too, buddy, Danny thinks grouchily. He was already awake, because Grace isn't old enough yet to equate the weekend with sleeping in, but Steve sounds like one of those irritating morning people.

He does appreciate Steve making an effort to share his family history, though, so Danny just says, "Sorry, I can't. I have Grace all weekend, and I don't think a military cemetery would be her idea of a good time. But I'm dropping her back at Rachel's around 5pm tomorrow, so I could maybe meet up with you then?" 

"Yeah, okay, that'd probably work," Steve says after a moment. "Text me once you're free, and we can rendezvous at the Punchbowl." 

"Sure," Danny says, and is unsurprised when Steve hangs up without saying goodbye. He wonders if his cousin was always so abrupt, or if military training overrode whatever manners Steve's mom had taught him.

Grace has had breakfast and is now taking a bubble bath, singing Hannah Montana songs to herself. It's the ideal opportunity for Danny to have another conversation, one he's been putting off for days.

He goes over to sit by the front door, to lessen the chance of her overhearing, and calls his parents' place in Newark. 

Pop's out at the park with Danny's sister Jennifer, watching her sons Frankie and Tyler play soccer, but Ma is home and pleased to hear from Danny. Her warm voice, still with a slight Boston accent after all these decades, tugs at his heart. God, he misses her so bad.

After a quick catch-up, Danny says, "Hey Ma, listen. I've got some news about my biological father – and it could be hard for you to hear."

She takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I thought you might. Okay, sweetheart, hit me."

"I went to see the people who investigated Jack McGarrett's murder," Danny begins, "and I wound up meeting his son Steve. He was pretty surprised to learn I existed...and upset, too, because Jack was already married to his mom in '75." 

"Well, that makes sense," Ma says. "When I never heard back from him, I pretty much figured he must have been married." 

"So Steve and I went and got our DNA tested, just to prove it for sure. I'm sorry, Ma, but the results show it wasn't Steve's dad that you met in Boston. It was actually Jack's older brother, Winston."

"What? No, I'm sure Lieutenant McGarrett told me his name was Jack. Even after 35 years, I remember it quite clearly."

Danny explains his theory about Winston hating his own name, and using his brother's instead. 

"I guess that's possible," Ma says slowly. "But wait: does that mean he never got my letters, if I addressed them to the wrong guy?"

That explanation had occurred to Danny around 1am Thursday morning, when this whole mess kept swirling in his overtired brain.

"Maybe, yeah. Steve says he'll look through Jack's old stuff, and check if Winston ever wrote him about you. But there's a high chance we'll never find out either way. Unfortunately, Winston passed just a few years after you two met, so we can't ask him." 

Ma sighs. "Oh, Lord. How did he die?"

For a moment she sounds old and tired, despite only being in her 50s.

"I don't actually know, yet," Danny admits. "Steve is gonna take me tomorrow to see his grave, so I'll ask him about it." 

"So what's Steve like, then?"

Danny takes a moment to consider his answer, acutely aware of the things he can't say. 

"He's in the Navy, too – it seems to be a McGarrett family tradition. And he's a hero, if all his medals are anything to go by. He was pretty unfriendly when we first met, which I guess is understandable: I showed up less than two months after Jack had been shot, claiming he'd cheated on Steve's mom. But Steve seems more accepting of me as a cousin than as his half-brother."

"Well, at least that's one good thing to come of all this," Ma says, with that positive outlook of hers which Danny definitely did not inherit. "It'll be nice for you to have some family out there, apart from Gracie."

" _You_ are my family, Ma," Danny says firmly. "You and Pop, Matty and Jen and Lisa, and their kids. Steve might be blood, but he's not kin...not really." 

Her voice is thick with emotion when she replies, "That's very sweet of you, kiddo, but I've got a pretty elastic definition of family. My best friends here in Newark are more like sisters to me than my real sisters ever were, you know? So I won't mind if you get close to Steve, and I'm sure Frank won't either." 

Danny's stomach twists; he's pretty damn sure they'd mind if he and Steve got as close as Danny would like. But he just says, "Thanks, Ma."

Grace emerges from the bathroom, then, clean and dressed and looking perkier than she did yesterday. "Hey, monkey, come talk to Nana Maria," he says. 

She runs across the room to take the phone, big smile on her face. "Hi, Nana," she chirps, and Danny leaves them to chat while he washes the dishes.

It rains heavily for most of Saturday and Grace still isn't 100 per cent, so they have a quiet day inside. The new sofa-bed is delivered late morning, and she sprawls out on it to watch that stupid Jonas Brothers movie, yet again. Meanwhile, Danny rearranges the other furniture and unpacks his last few boxes. This place is looking more like a home, now, especially with Grace here.

Once the sun comes out, late afternoon, they go for a walk around Danny's neighborhood. It's a not so great part of town, but Danny is paying more for a one-bedroom apartment here than for a two-bedroom in Newark. Still, there are fragrant flowering trees everywhere, plenty of other families around, and a well-maintained playground just a block away. 

And getting to push Grace ever higher on the swings, her braids trailing behind her and her laughter ringing out brightly, is worth all of the stress and sadness Danny has endured to be here.

***

Sunday dawns warm and clear. Grace is close to her normal peppy self again and eager for action, so Danny consults the list of child-friendly attractions Reyes had suggested. 

They wind up at this pineapple plantation which is more like a theme park, complete with a giant maze shaped like – what else? – a pineapple. Grace delights in drinking juice straight from a freshly-picked pineapple; Danny takes a sip, too, and finds it's not as disgustingly sweet as the processed stuff. Fruit still doesn't belong anywhere near pizza, though.

They head up to the North Shore around lunchtime and grab some sandwiches, then sit on Ehukai Beach and watch the surfers. Apparently this is the time of year when the swells are biggest. Danny thinks it's insane, the way people throw themselves at these huge walls of water and trust that they won't die horribly. But Grace's take on it is unfortunately quite different. 

"Wow," she says, "that looks like _so_ much fun." Her mouth hangs open as a bikini-clad woman slides across a wave at high speed, disappears behind the curl of churning water, and then emerges a few seconds later to ride it in to shore.

Grace turns to him, all hopeful smile and big brown eyes. "Can I learn how to surf, Danno?" 

Danny curses inwardly. He is going to have _words_ with Reyes come Monday morning, for suggesting this as a suitable form of free entertainment for his impressionable child.

"Looks pretty dangerous, monkey," he says. "I think you'd have to be much bigger and stronger to stay up on a board."

Grace shakes her head. "Lots of girls in my class go surfing," she informs him. "They start out learning at beaches with little waves, and they have kid-sized boards. It'd be a real good way for me to fit in around here and make new friends, right?"

Danny sighs. Given the combination of his and Rachel's genes and influence, it's no wonder Grace is able to argue persuasively for what she wants. And at some point, Danny knows he has to let his little girl take risks.

"I'll talk to your mom, okay," he concedes, "but don't get your hopes up just yet."

That daredevil in the yellow bikini wades out of the ocean, then, and Danny does a double-take: it's _Kono_. Ahuna had said she was a surfer, and it makes sense that she'd be just as fearless on a board as with a sniper rifle. 

Kono spots Danny and comes over, planting her surfboard in the sand nearby. "Howzit, Danny. Thinking of catching some waves today?"

"Christ, no," he says hastily, "but you're setting a truly terrible example for Grace here."

She grins at him, utterly unrepentant, and turns to his daughter. "Hi, Grace, I'm Kono. I worked a case with your dad this week." 

Grace smiles back. "Are you a detective too?"

"I'm learning how to be one, yeah," Kono tells her. "You should be proud of your dad – he helped us catch a very bad guy."

"The man from Philly, right? Only that isn't why he's bad, though," Grace says authoritatively, and Kono blinks at her in confusion. 

Danny doesn't feel up to explaining a fierce interregional sports rivalry to someone from a state that lacks football, baseball, basketball, and hockey franchises. So he just says, "Hey, is Chin here too?"

Kono shakes her head, sending drops of water everywhere. "I come up to the Pipeline every Sunday, and he works on fixing up his old bike. It suits us both pretty well." 

Danny nods. He can understand why the two of them would need the space, after working together all week. 

"Anyway," she continues, "I'm just gonna refuel before heading back out. Nice to meet you, Grace; see you around, Danny."

Once they're alone again, Grace asks, "Who's Chin?"

"Chin Ho Kelly is Kono's husband. He's another detective I met this week." Then, because he's curious to gauge her response, Danny adds, "And he's Kono's first cousin, too."

"Eww," Grace says. "That'd be like me marrying Frankie or Tyler, right?" 

Danny suppresses a sigh...he shouldn't have expected any different from an eight-year-old who still suspects boys of having cooties. 

"Yeah, that's right," he tells her. "Grown-up cousins are allowed to get married here in Hawaii, and in Jersey too for that matter."

"That's just weird," Grace declares, and turns back to watching the surfers defy death for fun. Danny stretches out on their blanket, and closes his eyes against the glare of the sun.

***

Danny and Grace stay at the beach until mid-afternoon. Then he drives back to his place, gets her cleaned up, and changes into some nicer clothes himself. He's going to a cemetery, after all – even if Ma didn't raise her kids to be religious, she made damn sure they were respectful. 

Once he's dropped Grace at Rachel's, Danny texts Steve and then finds his way across town to the Punchbowl. It's a stunning location for a final resting place, set into a volcanic crater with a view out across Honolulu and the ocean beyond. 

Steve meets him in the parking lot, also dressed more formally than usual: well-fitted navy slacks and a white button-down have replaced the cargo pants and polo shirt combo. Danny can't help noticing that Steve looks stunning, too. He clenches his fists until it hurts...he's here to see three dead relatives, for fuck's sake, not to lust over a living one.

"I found this last night, and thought you'd want to see it," Steve says by way of hello, holding out a color photo of two men in Navy dress uniforms. Jack is on the left, decades younger than his obituary picture but still recognizable. 

The guy on the right has lighter hair and bright blue eyes, and the resemblance to Danny himself is unmistakable. This, more than any DNA test, makes their connection feel _real_. Winston McGarrett truly was his biological father. 

"Thank you," Danny manages. "I'd like to have a copy of this, if you don't mind." 

Steve takes back the picture with a nod. Then he leads Danny to Winston's grave, located in the shade of a large tree. "I'm going to visit with Dad," Steve tells him. "Come find me when you're ready."

Relieved to be alone for this, Danny takes a deep breath and looks down at the flat gray stone marker. It simply reads: 

_Winston Steven McGarrett. Lt. Navy, Vietnam. Beloved son and brother. August 31, 1940 – January 23, 1977._

It's a damn strange way to meet the man responsible for half his genes. Danny hadn't even known Winston's full name, or the dates he was born and died. He was so young, barely two years older than Danny is now. But this cemetery is full of people taken too soon.

"You're not my father, not really," Danny tells the ground beneath his feet. "Maybe you would've wanted to be, if Ma's letters had reached you. Or maybe you were some selfish bastard who seduced a naïve girl, got her pregnant, and sailed away without looking back. God, I wish I knew the truth." 

Danny looks up at the clear blue sky, surprised to find himself blinking back tears. He hadn't expected that this would hit him so hard.

"But I exist because of you, for better or worse. And when you didn't come back, Ma wound up with a man who truly loved her. They've had a good life together, despite that rocky start, and Frank Williams has been the best father I could have hoped for. So...thank you, I guess."

He lingers there a while longer, thinking things over. Then he glances across the cemetery and sees Steve standing over another McGarrett grave, head bowed. His posture looks defeated, dejected, and Danny feels a surge of sympathy for him. The losses that Steve has endured – his parents' deaths and his sister's absence – help put Danny's own situation into perspective. He hasn't really lost anything at all. In fact, Danny feels like maybe he's _gained_ from this whole process.

So he goes over and stands at Steve's side, near enough that their arms are almost touching. Instead of moving away, Steve leans a little closer to Danny; neither of them speaks. 

Danny reads the epitaph, does the math, and realizes that Jack's mother must have been carrying him when her husband was killed. Widowed, pregnant, and with a toddler to manage...in a way, their grandmother was just as much a hero as their grandfather.

Steve bends down and brushes some stray leaves off the grave, pressing his hand to the stone for a moment. Then he straightens up, and gestures to the large monument set into the hillside. "The missing men from Pearl Harbor are listed up there."

They climb the steps together, and stand in front of a wall commemorating the dead of the _Arizona_. It gives Danny a chill to see Lieutenant Commander Steven John McGarrett among them; grandfather and grandson even hold the same rank.

"You were named for him?" Danny says. "Damn, Steve, that's a lot to live up to."

"I guess so." Steve shrugs. "I always thought of it as an honor, though. Our grandmother outlived her husband by nearly 50 years, but she kept his memory alive. I felt like I knew him, thanks to her stories."

Danny nods, still staring at the hundreds of names carved into white marble that's cold to the touch, despite the warm afternoon. But Steven John McGarrett II is standing close beside him, radiating heat. So Danny turns away from the dead to face the living, and says, "I'm glad you brought me here." 

"I'm glad you wanted to come," Steve replies. They walk slowly across the expanse of carefully-tended lawn, with rows of graves stretching out in every direction.

Back in the parking lot, Steve goes to open his truck door and then pauses. "I also found some of my uncle's letters last night, along with our family Bible," he says abruptly. "You could come over and see them now, if you like – stay for dinner, too."

Danny blinks at him. "Yeah, that'd be great."

When Steve rattles off his address, Danny recognizes it from the HPD file on Jack McGarrett. And Jesus, how fucked up is it to live in the house where your father was murdered? But he doesn't say anything; Steve is being surprisingly open and welcoming, and Danny doesn't want to break the spell.

Steve drives away from the cemetery at speed, but Danny follows more sedately. He stops to pick up beer, since Pop taught him not to show up at a buddy's place empty-handed. Steve lives not too far from Rachel's place, by island standards of distance. Driving a route that's quickly becoming familiar, Danny has time to think about tonight. 

He couldn't read any hidden agenda in Steve's expression or body language when the invitation was made. So either Steve is just trying to help his long-lost relative find some answers, or he actually wants the two of them to become friends. 

The third option, that Steve is still attracted to Danny after learning their true connection, seems a lot less likely. Danny's never been an optimist, unlike Ma, and he's used to wanting things he can't have. The dilemma he faces now is, should he tell Steve anyway? 

At first glance, the cons outweigh the pros here. Steve may be offended and disgusted; he might want nothing more to do with Danny. And even if a spark of interest does still remain, he seems to have something pretty good going with Lieutenant Rollins already.

On the other hand...wouldn't it be creepy and wrong for Danny to keep having secret X-rated thoughts about someone who just sees him as a cousin? Being aware of the truth would at least let Steve make an informed choice about spending time together. 

But the bottom line is this: if there's the slightest chance that Steve feels the same way and is willing to give this crazy thing a try, Danny _has_ to know. So he decides to be honest with Steve, either tonight or sometime soon.

***


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating / Warnings:** R for sexual references and serious angst. Discussion of institutional homophobia.

The McGarrett place is a big old house right on Oahu's southeastern coast. It must be worth a _fortune_ , these days, which helps explain why Steve was so concerned about Danny wanting Jack's money. 

When Steve meets him at the front door, Danny asks, "So is this where Jack and Winston grew up?"

Steve nods. "And once they'd both left to join the Navy, Grandma lived here alone for the rest of her life. But my parents brought me and Mary over to visit with her all the time, and she was the only babysitter I can ever remember having." 

It's hard for Danny to imagine being that close with a grandparent. He's never met Ma's parents, and only rarely saw Pop's family when they came down from Boston. 

"What was she like?" he asks.

"Grandma was a fantastic old lady...she had so much strength and energy, but she was a lot of fun, too." Steve leads Danny into the living room, and gestures out the window at the ocean. "She'd go swimming every day, rain or shine; she was the one who taught me to swim, actually." 

Danny smiles as he pictures a gray-haired woman splashing around with her small grandson. Maybe he'd have salt water in his veins, too, if he had grown up swimming at a private tropical beach. 

Steve has obviously been hard at work sorting out Jack's stuff, as the coffee table is piled with papers and folders. The two of them sit on the couch and Steve hands Danny an old leather-bound Bible. Inside, he finds a handwritten chronicle of McGarrett births, marriages, and deaths dating back to the 1800s. 

What Steve had originally recalled about Winston is confirmed: he is the only brother listed for Jack, and there's no mention of him marrying or having children. Danny's heart clenches a little when he notices that the same person had recorded the deaths of both Steven and Winston – presumably Grandma, who lived on without her husband and eldest son until 1989. 

The date of Jack's murder has been added recently, the blue ink bright and fresh against all the faded inscriptions. Danny bites his lip, imagining Steve sitting alone in the house where his father was killed and performing one last rite to honor him. 

When Danny carefully lays the Bible down, Steve offers him an envelope. "Like I said, I've found a bunch of letters from Uncle Winston to Dad. So far, this is the only one postmarked after he would have met your mother. I didn't open it, though."

Danny takes it, and reads the enclosed letter aloud. 

_"February 6, 1976._

_Dear Jack,_

_We docked at Newport yesterday, for three days' R &R. As soon we were allowed ashore, a buddy and I hitched a ride up to Boston – I was really keen to see Maria, the girl I met there last summer, and he has family in the area. _

_I made it out to Maria's house and asked to see her, but her mother just yelled at me a lot (in Italian, I think) and then slammed the door in my face._

_So I went back to the waterfront bar where we met. The owner said she quit just before Christmas, and left town. And then one of the other waitresses, Peggy, told me Maria got pregnant to some sailor during Fleet Week. She couldn't handle all the hassling from her super-strict Catholic family, so she decided to move away with her friend Frank. But Peggy didn't know where they'd gone, and hadn't heard anything since._

_Jack, I think Maria's baby might be mine. I used a rubber with her, but I guess accidents can happen. And that'd explain why Mrs. Vitale got so mad at me when I introduced myself yesterday._

_My buddy suggested I try checking the records at City Hall, in case Maria and that Frank guy got married before they left Boston. But there was nothing there. So I have no idea where she is and no way of finding her, and my ship sails tomorrow morning._

_I'm going out of my mind here, Jack! I like this girl so much – she's sweet and funny and smart, and so damn pretty – and I really think we could've had something together. Now she's gone, and maybe my son or daughter will be raised by some other man._

_My time is up in a month, and I was planning to come ashore at Boston. If things with Maria worked out, I thought I might bring her home to Hawaii. But now I think I'll sign up for another tour, so you won't be seeing me for a while yet. I'll write Mom soon, to let her know; please don't tell her anything about Maria._

_Anyway, give my love to Evelyn, and congratulations on your happy news – I'm looking forward to being an uncle. If you two are having a boy, will you name him after Dad? Whatever you do, just don't repeat his mistake and borrow the current British Prime Minister's name. Harold would be almost as bad as Winston!_

_Love,  
Your brother."_

The scrawled words are blurring before his eyes by the time Danny finishes reading. It's just so damn sad – and surprising, too. Ever since Ma told him about the handsome sailor who never came back, Danny has assumed the worst of his biological father. But Winston had in fact returned for Ma, and really did mean all those romantic things he'd said. 

Danny doesn't truly wish that things had turned out differently, because he wouldn't trade Pop, his brother and sisters, and of course _Grace_ for the world. Still, he wonders about Ma: will it help her to know that her Lieutenant McGarrett had genuine good intentions, or will she be overwhelmed by regrets? Danny's always been honest with his mother, though...hell, she was the first person he ever came out to. And he can't keep this truth from her.

Steve looks over at Danny, his expression pensive. "I guess he wasn't so bad, after all."

"Guess not." Danny swallows hard and wipes at his eyes. "So he died about a year after he wrote this. Do you know how it happened?" 

"Dad and Grandma never talked about it, but Mom once told me that Winston was on shore leave in Rhode Island. He was driving back towards Newport, late at night. I guess the roads were icy, because he swerved into a tree and died on impact."

Danny sighs. "God, what a waste."

"And then Mom was killed in a car accident too, in '92. You know, I never put it together before now," Steve adds slowly, "but having lost his brother in a similar way must have made her death even harder for Dad to bear. He pretty much had a breakdown, after that, and decided to send me and Mary away to the mainland. It was for our own protection, he said, but I never did work out _how_...car crashes can happen anywhere, you know?"

When Danny had originally read Jack's obituary and seen that his wife was already dead, he'd felt a moment of selfish relief. He would have dreaded showing up on an elderly widow's doorstep, and announcing he was her late husband's illegitimate son. 

Now, in the face of Steve's lingering grief, he instead feels a pang of loss for an aunt he never knew. It's a measure of how much things have changed for Danny in just two weeks.

"Hey, listen," Danny murmurs, "let's drink to our dead and then get started on dinner, huh? I had a sandwich up at Ehukai Beach, but that was six hours ago."

That snaps Steve out of his dark mood, like Danny had hoped. As they head to the kitchen, Steve asks, "You mean you went surfing?"

"No, I did not, because I am not _certifiable_. We were just there as spectators. But apparently some of the local insanity is rubbing off on my daughter, because now she wants surfing lessons."

With a smile, Steve touches his beer bottle to Danny's. "Good for her. I first got on a board when I was about Grace's age." 

"Don't tell me Grandma taught you to surf, too." 

Steve chuckles. It's the first time Danny has heard him laugh, and he already wants to make it happen again. 

"No. It was Mamo, a waterman from our old neighborhood – he still has a board rental stand at Waikiki Beach. When Dad sent me to live with Mom's brother in Virginia, I really missed surfing. But I also missed sitting on the sand, watching Mamo and the other old-timers out on the waves...they made it look so effortless." 

"See, maybe that's your idea of fun, but back home I could go to actual stadiums and watch actual sports with my daughter," Danny complains. "She was already becoming a great little Yankees fan, and we even went to see the Jets play a few times. But there is a depressing lack of pro baseball on this island, and football too."

"The University of Hawaii's football team is pretty good, though," Steve argues. "And there's intense competition between the local high schools. You and Grace could come to a game with us sometime, so long as you cheer for my old team: the Kukui Kings."

"Yeah, that might be fun." Danny imagines a younger Steve in uniform, with those skin-tight pants, and chugs down his beer. Whether or not he comes clean with Steve, drinking will definitely help Danny get through the rest of the night.

***

Steve grills out on the patio, and Danny assembles the salad Steve insists on serving with their steaks. They keep talking about sports for a while: Steve's glory days as Kukui's quarterback, and Danny's once-promising baseball career.

"Coach thought I was good enough to get an athletic scholarship, but I tore my ACL in senior year and that was pretty much it." Danny shrugs. "And anyway, I never had the greatest grades. My brother Matt was always the smart one – he got a full ride to Columbia. Me, I just wanted to be a cop."

"I did too, when I was a little kid," Steve says, "but Dad wasn't keen on me following in his footsteps. So I went with the other McGarrett family tradition, and joined the Navy." 

Danny wants to know if Steve ever considered forging a new path for himself. Instead, he asks, "Think Grandma would've been pleased about that?"

"She wouldn't have been too surprised, that's for sure." Steve nods towards the water. "But when she was teaching me to swim, she'd never have imagined how I ended up using those skills. I've parachuted into the ocean at night, and then swum for miles to land in hostile territory; I've crossed maritime borders underwater to avoid detection. And it all started for me right here, on this beach."

This isn't anything Danny couldn't have learned from one of the many Navy SEAL fan sites he's found online. Still, it's different to hear Steve say it. It amazes Danny to contemplate all the things Steve has done, all the things he's capable of, and it puts his recklessness during the Howard case into perspective. But a gun wielded by a professional bank robber from Philly can kill just as effectively as one in the hands of a fanatical terrorist from Kabul.

Steve gets them each another beer, and leads the way to a couple of weatherworn wooden chairs down on the beach. They eat in silence for a while as the sun sets over the mountains behind them, turning the wispy clouds pink-gold. And maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the almost hypnotic motion of the waves, but Danny decides to push a little.

Setting his empty plate down on the sand, he says, "You know, I'm glad you've warmed up to me. You really were kind of a jerk, to start with."

Danny's expecting an argument, but Steve merely slumps down in his chair and sighs.

"Yeah, I know." He twists around to meet Danny's gaze. "It's just...I've got a lot of regrets about Dad. I loved him, but I had real trouble connecting with him as an adult."

"How come? It seems like you two had a lot in common. Maybe not the SEAL stuff, so much, but Naval Intelligence sounds like detective work that just involves a lot more travel."

"My missions were all classified, though, and Dad didn't want to discuss his work," Steve explains. "And after he retired from HPD, he got all paranoid and secretive; visiting him started to feel more like a chore than a vacation. When he was killed, I hadn't been home in years and we hadn't even talked in months. And it's my fault he's dead. So when you showed up claiming to be his son, it was pretty much the last thing I needed." 

Shocked, Danny holds up one hand and says, "Whoa, whoa, back it up. How could it _possibly_ be your fault, Steve? You weren't even on the island when Jack died, were you?"

"Jesus, Danny, I thought you knew this stuff already." Steve frowns. "Didn't you read the HPD file?" 

"Yeah, but it just says that he was shot in a home invasion, and that the Governor's taskforce took over the case. That's why I originally came to the Iolani Palace last Monday, to find out what the hell happened to him." 

Steve stands up, then, and walks to the water's edge. With his back to Danny, he tells a story about two arms dealers called Hesse, a long chase stretching around the globe, a phone call from Hawaii to South Korea, and a gunshot.

"Sounds like you did exactly what you had to do – exactly what you should have done," Danny says, when Steve's quiet words finally peter out. His heart is breaking for Steve, and the burden of guilt he's been carrying around for weeks. So he chooses his words with care.

"You couldn't have known what capturing Anton Hesse would mean to you personally, but you couldn't have let such a dangerous guy go free either. Your father's blood is on the Hesse brothers' hands, not yours, and you killed them both. You avenged him, and now you're carrying on his work of keeping this island safe. I'm sure Jack would be real proud of you, Steve."

When Steve turns to face him, silent but with an expression that speaks volumes, Danny gets to his feet and approaches him. "Here, let me introduce you to a _Williams_ family tradition," he says. 

Carefully, giving him time to move away, Danny lays his hands on Steve's biceps. Steve makes a choked-off sound and sways toward him a little; emboldened, Danny wraps his arms around Steve and holds on tight. 

Steve's posture is rigid, to start with, but he eventually relaxes into the embrace. Danny ignores the part of his brain that notes how good it feels to have Steve in his arms. This is about comfort, and nothing else. 

But his body has other ideas, and to his horror Danny starts to get hard. They're standing so close together, there's no way Steve doesn't feel Danny's cock pressing against his leg.

Abruptly, Danny lets go of Steve and takes a step back, not meeting his eyes. "Sorry, I... _Jesus_ , I'm so sorry."

He turns to leave, mortified. But behind him, Steve says, "Wait."

***

Danny freezes and slowly turns back, bracing for a punch, hoping against hope for a kiss. Instead, Steve spreads his hands and says, "Can we talk about this?"

There's something weirdly funny about Steve – man of action and few words – wanting to talk, but Danny's simply grateful that Steve's willing to speak to him after what just happened.

They sit back down, and Danny decides to rip the metaphorical band-aid straight off. 

"I'm sorry," he says again, "I didn't mean for you to find out like that. But...the truth is, I've wanted you since the moment I first saw you." 

"Even when you thought we were half-brothers?"

Steve sounds curious, not disgusted, so Danny looks down at his hands and says, "Yes, even then. I'm surprised my palms and mouth weren't perpetually bloodied, the number of times I dug my nails in or bit my lip to try and stop thinking about you. I gotta admit, I was pretty relieved when Max gave us the news." 

"Me too," Steve says, "but mostly for different reasons." 

Danny's breath catches at that telling choice of words. "Mostly, not entirely?" he asks, and it's Steve's turn to look away. 

"So it wasn't just me," Danny says slowly. "When we met, you felt it too." 

He gets no response, but he keeps his nerve and keeps going.

"Because here's how it was for me: I walked into that room, and thought you were just about the hottest person I ever saw. I've never had such a strong reaction to a guy before, and it's been two decades since I figured out I was queer. Then, when you told me you were Jack's son, I felt sick to my stomach but I still found you incredibly attractive anyway. And it's only gotten stronger, this whole week. Is any of this sounding familiar to you?" 

Steve's staring at Danny now, mouth open. For a moment, Danny fears that he's read this all wrong. Then Steve exhales, and it's like his body deflates. "Yes."

"Well, okay then," Danny says. "At least we're in this mess together."

But his momentary flare of hope dies away as Steve shakes his head.

"It's probably not real, though," he argues. "I did some research, and there's apparently a thing called 'Genetic Sexual Attraction'. When close relatives meet for the first time as adults, there can be this immediate and intense kind of bond...between cousins, or siblings, or even parents and their grown-up children."

Shuddering involuntarily, Danny says, "Okay, that's disturbing, but this sure as fuck feels real to me. Are you saying you wouldn't have been interested in me, if we were just two random guys?"

"Yeah, because I'm not gay," Steve insists.

Danny raises his eyebrows at him. "Uh huh. So, what – you were 100 per cent straight, Monday morning, and then I walked in and turned your head?"

"No," Steve admits after a long moment, rubbing at his jaw line in a way Danny's starting to recognize as his tell. "I do look at men, okay, but that's all. Apart from a little fooling around with a teammate back in high school, I've only ever been with women. You gotta understand, Danny: the Navy has been my entire life since I was 18 years old, and 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' has always been hanging over my head." 

"I thought that rule was meant to allow queer folks to serve, if they stayed on the down low," Danny says.

"Yeah, but the consequences of getting caught are serious. Thousands of sailors and soldiers have been kicked out, including some close friends of mine. I couldn't risk losing everything just to fuck men, you know? So I just...didn't. And I still can't, even now, no matter _how_ much I want to." 

Danny's heart sinks, but he keeps his voice steady. "Okay, so, just to be clear: are you saying no because I'm a guy, or because we're related?"

"It's both." Steve spreads his hands. "The cousin thing doesn't bother me so much. I grew up here, and I know Chin and Kono have made it work. But I just can't help thinking about Dad. He was an old-fashioned kind of man, and he would've reacted badly if I'd ever come out to him. I'm pretty sure the prospect of me and his brother's son together would make him roll over in his grave –"

"– and you already feel way too guilty for putting him there," Danny concludes, and Steve bows his head in response. "Well, I'd say you should let go of what your father might have thought, and start living for yourself. I'd also point out that you're effectively a civilian, these days, and not under such close scrutiny from the military brass anymore."

But Steve looks at him with a deeply unhappy expression and says, "I'm sorry, Danny, I just can't."

Danny sighs, sitting back and stretching his legs out. "Yeah, okay. It was always gonna be a long shot, but I had to know."

"You mean you were already planning to tell me how you felt?"

"I was, yeah; Ma always says I'll never die wondering. And knowing for sure that it's hopeless means I can try to accept that and move on."

"I do want us to be friends in the long run," Steve offers, "if you think you can handle that." 

Danny can't help rolling his eyes. "Not to prick your ego bubble or anything, but I survived my wife of seven years kicking me out. You, I have known for seven _days_. I'll be fine, Steve; I might just keep my distance for a while. After that, I'm sure we'll be able to hang out without me jumping your bones. I've had my share of crushes on unavailable guys, believe me."

Luckily, Steve doesn't seem to take offence. "Yeah, me too. It's been useful for honing my self-control, if nothing else."

Shaking his head, Danny asks, "But has it really been worth it? You've had to repress an important part of yourself, all these years. And a lot of the people you risked your life to defend, they happen to think us queers are going to hell, you know?"

"I'm proud of the work I've done," Steve says simply. "I've helped protect all Americans: gay, straight, bigoted, whatever. And I swore to obey all the Navy's rules when I signed up, not just the ones I agreed with."

"I guess I can understand that," Danny says. "I feel kind of the same way about police ethics. It's not a menu you can pick and choose from...unless the Governor of Hawaii grants you full immunity and means, of course."

Steve laughs, easing the tension a little. "Don't worry. Meka and Chin are teaching me how far I can go without getting our cases thrown out of court."

"Good – I think you're doing important work, and it'd be a shame to let all that go to waste. I've heard ADAs scream at detectives for some procedural fuck-up that ruined their whole prosecution. Trust me, it was _not_ a pretty sight."

"Thanks for the warning," Steve says, and holds out his bottle to clink against Danny's. But the beer is warm and flat, now, and Danny should be sober enough to drive.

So he says, "Listen, it's late. I better get going." 

Once Steve has walked him out to the car, Danny rubs at the nape of his neck awkwardly. "Well, thanks for dinner and all the family history stuff today. And, uh, thanks for not being a homophobic jerk." 

"I'm glad you were honest, even if I can't give you what you want." Steve gives a similarly awkward little shrug. "I guess I'll see you around." 

"Yeah," Danny says softly, "I guess so."

"'Night, Danny," Steve says, and heads back into the house. 

Danny really hates the idea of Steve living here alone, with only the ghosts of McGarretts past for company. And that vehement thought makes him lean heavily against the driver's door and close his eyes, because he _has_ to step back from this level of concern about Steve's wellbeing. But where does Danny's justifiable worry for a cousin and possible friend stop, and where does his futile romantic attraction begin?

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...please forgive me, folks! There's plenty more still to come, I promise, and I only ever write happy endings.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating / Warnings:** R for non-graphic violence.  Trigger warning for references to intimate partner homicide cases handled by HPD.
> 
>  **Pairings:** Danny/Steve (pre-slash), Kono/Chin, Danny/OFC.
> 
>  **Author's note:** thanks for sticking with me, guys, even though I'm taking the long slow route! And to pre-empt any objections from football fans: yes, I know that in the real world all the Thanksgiving Classic games happen on Thanksgiving itself.

Danny gets through the next week without seeing Steve, but their conversation Sunday night is never too far from his thoughts. He hadn't cherished any great hope that the two of them could actually be together, so it's not as though the disappointment is crushing. And yet knowing that Steve wants him too but can't – or won't – act on it somehow hurts even worse than having been rejected outright. 

He does his best not to let his distraction show at work, but Reyes isn't a detective for nothing. She corners him by the vending machine Monday afternoon and asks him flat out what's wrong. Danny tells her a partial truth: that it was an incredible joy having Grace with him for a rare whole weekend, and a terrible wrench having to return her to Rachel's mansion. 

Reyes seems to accept that answer, resting her hand on his arm for a moment. Then he distracts her by asking how the Diamond Head meeting went, and the conversation moves on. An hour later they're called out to Kailua Bay, where an elderly man's body has washed up. Danny is ashamed at how relieved he feels when Max declares the death non-accidental, allowing Reyes and Danny to launch an investigation.

It turns out to be one of those predictable cases where following the money leads straight to the killer. The wealthy victim was planning on changing his will to leave almost everything to charity, and his eldest son – a hard-living playboy with a history of violence – objected to being cut out. 

The perp doesn't confess, despite Reyes' impressive turn as 'bad cop' during the interrogation. But the evidence is pretty overwhelming: he and the vic went out sailing together, an argument turned physical, and Junior smashed a magnum of champagne over Senior's head before throwing him overboard to drown. 

It's always grim when relatives kill each other...so close to a holiday all about family togetherness, it's even worse. Fortunately, Danny and Reyes get the case wrapped up and handed to the DA in time for Thanksgiving. 

Under their custody agreement, Danny and Rachel alternate major holidays. So he gets Thanksgiving dinner with Grace this year, and she'll spend most of Christmas with Rachel and Stan. Danny can't hope to match the full-on turkey extravaganza his mother always puts on, but he does a small roast chicken with a couple of basic sides and his daughter's favorite pie for dessert. Although it's a pale imitation of her Nana's homemade version – Danny buys a frozen pie crust and uses canned pumpkin – Grace seems to enjoy it anyway. 

Danny battles the crowds early on Black Friday, and gets a heavily discounted flat-screen and a few other things to make his apartment more livable. The day turns out to be black for another, less pleasant reason, though. Domestic violence always spikes around the holidays back home, and apparently it's no different in Hawaii. 

At 8:30am, Reyes and Danny have to arrest a chronically battered woman who finally snapped: she stabbed her husband multiple times as he was sleeping, and then called 911 to turn herself in. She's covered in cuts and bruises, and one wrist is too swollen for Reyes to get the handcuff on. They help her into the car as gently as possible, and drive her to hospital...getting an official confession can wait. 

And at 10am, Lee and Takahashi start a manhunt for a college freshman who apparently strangled his girlfriend. He fled the scene hours before her body was found, and it takes half of HPD most of Friday to track him down. The guy's motive, it turns out, was that he believed she'd flirted with his stepbrother over Thanksgiving dinner.

It's all as depressing as hell, and Danny's deeply relieved when the day ends.

"Are you guys coming to the luau Sunday?" Reyes calls to Lee and Takahashi as they head out the door. 

"Wouldn't miss it," Takahashi replies. "I'll even have my boys with me, for a change."

"My ex has taken the kids to Maui for the long weekend, so it'll just be me and my six-pack this year," Lee says. 

Danny's starting to feel excluded, but then Reyes turns to him. "Sorry, I meant to invite you earlier; it's been such a crazy week."

"A luau...that's the show with the dancing girls in grass skirts and coconut bras, right?" Danny asks, confused.

"No, brah," Reyes laughs, "that's the tourist version. To locals, a luau pretty much means a party. Every Thanksgiving Sunday for the past few years, a bunch of us have gotten together for a cookout. We drink beer and eat until we can't move, and then the sports fans watch the late game." 

"Sounds great to me," Danny says with a grin. "So where's this thing being held?"

"Meka usually hosts it, but this year SEAL-Steve offered. His place is a lot bigger, and it backs onto the beach."

Danny's not sure he's ready to see Steve yet. Still, it might be bearable with other people around. And God, he really wants to kick back and watch some football, especially since his New York Jets will be playing.

"I hardly know McGarrett," Danny hedges. "Are you sure he'd be okay with me tagging along?"

"Yeah, Meka checked, and apparently Steve said you'd be welcome," she assures him. "Bring your daughter, too. There'll be at least half a dozen kids there, so she'll have plenty of company."

Danny does want to get to know his colleagues better, and this seems like a good opportunity. And it'd be nice for Grace to meet their families, too. She grew up with cops' kids, back home, but she probably won't encounter any at her fancy private school.

"Okay, cool. What can I bring?"

"Sodas would be good, and maybe some chips too. We'll take care of the rest."

Reyes gives him the address, which Danny dutifully writes down, and tells him to be there any time after midday. 

***

As they're driving to Steve's place, Danny explains to Grace who she'll be meeting today. After a lot of thought, he's decided not to tell her that the party's host is their cousin. Steve said he wanted to stay friends, even after shutting the door to any sexual relationship, but there's no guarantee they'll be able to manage that long-term. It'd be a shame to let Grace get attached to Steve, as her only extended family in this time zone, and then have her be disappointed if things don't work out. 

Steve meets them at the front door, and really, it should be _illegal_ for an unshaven guy wearing ragged board shorts, a faded T-shirt, and flip-flops to be so attractive. For a long moment, he and Danny just look at each other silently. Then Steve crouches down and says, "Hey, you must be Grace. I'm Steve." 

"Hi, Steve," Grace says shyly. 

"I'm real glad to meet you," he tells her. "Some other kids are here already, so come out back and meet them."

Though Danny was hesitant about introducing Grace to so many new folks, she copes pretty well. Kono she already met last weekend, of course, and Chin is gentle and kind. Danny's well-behaved daughter makes no comment about the ickiness of cousins being married, for which he's grateful. The other adults are friendly enough, and – more importantly – their kids are too. Grace is soon involved in a game of hide-and-go-seek that ranges across the yard and into the house. 

It's so different, seeing the big old place full of living, laughing people...and as Danny had hoped, it's not too bad seeing Steve in a group like this. Hyper-aware that he's surrounded by detectives, Danny does his best to stay cool; he doesn't stare longingly, but nor does he ignore Steve either. They even manage a few casual conversations here and there. 

Danny gets to meet his partner's quiet, laidback husband Jason and her kids Marissa and Connor, who clearly take after Reyes in terms of volume and energy levels. Meka's lovely wife Amy takes Danny under her wing over at the buffet table, explaining what all the unfamiliar dishes are. He even manages to keep a straight face when she refers to the snacks as 'pupu'. 

Once everyone's sat down to eat, Danny covertly studies the dynamic between the members of Five-0. He's already seen how Steve's teammates relate to him on the job, deferring to his orders but not afraid to offer suggestions. 

Now it's clear that they've become Steve's close friends as well, just two months after meeting him. Kono runs inside for more paper napkins, obviously familiar with the kitchen layout already, while Steve and Meka handle the grilling together with the ease of practice. 

Danny's already figured out that only people willing to speak to Chin have been invited today. Chin still seems a little reserved around Lee and Takahashi, his former colleagues, but becomes animated when Steve gets him talking about football. He was Kukui High's champion quarterback before Steve broke all his records, apparently, and Danny can't help smiling at their easy banter.

And watching Steve swim with Billy Hanamoa, who'd been so timid when Meka introduced him to Danny, is a _revelation_. They wade out into deeper water, the little boy riding on Steve's back once he can't touch the ocean floor. Steve crouches down with Billy perched on his shoulders, and then stands up fast so Billy can leap into the water. He comes up giggling and shouting for more, and Steve patiently repeats the process.

Grace changes into her bathing suit, and heads out to join them. Steve glances at Danny, who nods...he trusts Steve to take care of her. Soon Grace is the one diving off Steve's shoulders and laughing as they splash each other. It's not something Danny had anticipated, the two of them playing together, and seeing it happen puts a smile on his face and a lump in his throat.

"McGarrett's so good with kids," Reyes comments, making Danny jump a little; he hadn't heard her approach across the sand. "He'd be a great father."

"Yeah," Danny says, "I think you're right."

With the time difference, the Jets-Bengals night game is on at 3pm here. When Danny is 5,000 miles away with bright sunshine outside, it's weird seeing the familiar Meadowlands stadium floodlit and the fans wrapped up warm. Danny deliberately avoids sitting beside Steve, but it's hard not to watch Steve's expressive face as much as the game itself.

Meka and Reyes share the couch with Steve instead, and it's interesting to see them together too. They're clearly best friends in the way Danny and Chris are, finishing each other's sentences and bringing up embarrassing stories from years earlier. Danny feels bad for Reyes, who had her long-standing partner poached by Steve and got landed with the ignorant mainlander instead. At least she and Meka are only separated by a few city blocks, and not an 11-hour flight.

Danny steps outside at halftime and calls his ex-partner. Judging by the ambient noise, Chris is watching the game at their favorite bar; Danny can hear several of his other friends in the background, contributing obscenity-laced salutations. Standing on the patio of his biological father's old house, he's swamped by a wave of homesickness for the place where he truly belongs. 

But the cops watching the game with him today really aren't all that different to Danny's buddies back in Newark. And Grace is right here in front of him, enjoying a semi-aquatic ball game under the supervision of Amy, Jason, and a cheerful guy called Kamekona. The batter and pitcher are on the beach but half the fielders are standing in the shallows. Rounding the bases involves a lot of splashing and shrieked laughter. 

So Danny manages to keep his conversation with Chris short and light-hearted. Hanging up, he waves to Grace – ankle-deep in water at second base – and then heads inside to catch the second half. The Jets are on course to crush Cincinnati, and Danny doesn't want to miss a moment of it.

***

After that surprisingly enjoyable Sunday, Danny and Steve hardly see each other for the next few weeks. Danny still thinks about him far too much, though, and realizes he underestimated just how long it'd take to get over this inconvenient crush. So he doesn't initiate any social contact, and nor does Steve. That silence might be out of respect for Danny's need for space, or because Steve finds the whole situation too awkward to handle. Either way, Danny is grateful. 

The week after Thanksgiving, he calls Zach from the furniture store and they go out for a drink. It's nice, sure. But there's really nothing there, beyond a shallow physical attraction, and Danny's not yet desperate enough for a meaningless one-night stand. He makes no promise of a second date, when they say goodnight. Zach looks disappointed, but kisses his cheek and tells Danny to call if he changes his mind. 

The next date Danny goes on is a direct result of his caffeine addiction. He's become a regular at Kai's, the coffee shop near HPD that Meka had recommended. While the coffee really is excellent, there's another attraction too: Julia the cute brunette barista is originally from Paramus, just 20 miles north of Newark. She moved out here a decade ago to follow a surfer boyfriend, and wound up staying after they broke up. 

Julia and Danny have some great conversations about Jersey, and just the sound of her accent is a delight, so far from home. Danny starts getting up earlier so he can hang out at Kai's, waiting for a lull in the morning rush so they can talk for a few minutes. Reyes sure doesn't mind Danny picking up coffee from her favorite place, but she does tease him about coming into the bullpen with an uncharacteristic smile on his face.

Danny assumes that baristas get hit on all the time and that being friendly is part of the job, so he's pleasantly surprised when Julia asks him out for dinner. She takes him to a pizza place in Waimalu that's run by actual New Yorkers. In response to his involuntary moan after taking one bite, she just grins and says, "I know, right?" It's even better than the slice he had with NCIS, and this restaurant has the advantage of not being located on a tightly-guarded military base.

Pretty soon, they're sleeping together. It might not be earth-shatteringly perfect, but God, it's _fun_. Danny knows that she's on the rebound from a serious relationship, and that she's still hooking up with her ex occasionally; Julia's aware that Danny's got feelings for someone else, though she doesn't know who. She doesn't ask to meet Grace, and Danny doesn't offer to introduce them. It's the level of intensity that each of them can handle right now, and it works just fine.

One Friday night they're at a sports bar, watching hockey. She's a Rangers fan and this is a Jersey Devils game, so she naturally roots for the opposing team. And as Danny's in the middle of celebrating a goal, Steve walks in with Meka.

Steve stops dead when he sees Danny with his arm around Julia. Danny gives him an awkward little wave; Steve shakes his head slightly, and keeps walking to a booth in back. And Danny appreciates Steve not interrupting his date, he really does, but it still feels weird as hell. Luckily, Julia's chatting to the bartender and misses the silent exchange. Although Danny turns his attention back to the game, it's hard to concentrate when he can feel Steve's gaze like a phantom touch.

Thankfully, though, their paths rarely cross on the job. 

Danny keeps his head down, works hard, and does his best to integrate into HPD. His ties are relegated to the back of his sock drawer, though he's still determined to dress formally for court appearances. He keeps a list of the Hawaiian and pidgin words he learns, and his colleagues get used to him asking for translations. But Danny makes sure to double-check whatever Lee tells him with Reyes...that guy is a real joker. 

While he and Reyes are mostly getting along okay, of course they argue sometimes. Their worst blow-up comes when Danny calls Oahu a 'pineapple-infested hellhole'. He's just had a nasty fight with Rachel and is blowing off steam with a generalized rant, but Reyes takes offence on behalf of her beloved island. Essentially, she tells him to get the fuck over himself and accept his new situation. Danny apologizes, because he hadn't truly meant it and because Reyes has done so much to help him. He's much more careful about insulting Hawaii, after that. 

As for the rest of Homicide, it seems like they're mostly coming to accept him as part of the squad. Kaleo still clearly hates him, but Danny's noticed that he's pretty much a dick to everyone. It's amazing that Ahuna can put up with him as a partner.

Reyes and Danny catch a wide range of cases during December. There's the sadly mundane kind he saw back home, too: drug deal gone wrong, abusive relationship turned fatal. Then there are things that could only happen here. Most memorably, one hula girl poisons another for stealing her boyfriend, a dancer who also performs with their luau troupe. 

A love triangle is nothing new, but it's the first time Danny has interviewed a guy who's only wearing a wreath of leaves and a wraparound skirt. Danny finds it difficult to keep his eyes on the dancer's face and not his oiled, well-muscled body. 

The most interesting and important cases, though, are usually assigned to Five-0 before Homicide is even officially notified of what's happened. Still, it's impossible for Danny to ignore the exploits of Steve's team. If it's not the local media's coverage, it's the precinct's rumor mill churning away. 

Danny is torn between a lingering fascination with Steve and a desire to keep his distance. But the choice is mostly taken out of his hands, because everyone at HPD knows how close his partner is to Meka. Any updates about Five-0 get routed to Reyes, not least because Nalani down in Dispatch has been her friend since kindergarten. So Danny gets to hear all the news – both good and bad – almost as soon as it happens. 

***

The combination of Reyes' concern for Meka and Danny's connection to Steve turns out to be a blessing, one afternoon in mid-December.

Somehow, Five-0's work as a visiting dictator's protective detail leads to a shoot-out on a quiet back street. HPD is soon on the scene, where they find an overturned SUV on fire, another vehicle with shredded tires, and two men shot dead. But there's no sign of what happened to Steve's team, General Pak, or his family. 

Captain Makaha benches Reyes, saying it'd be hard for her to be objective when Five-0 probably killed the general's bodyguards. So she's reduced to pacing the floor, calling Meka every few minutes. It goes straight to voicemail, as does Chin's phone and Kono's too. Reyes even gets hold of the number for the McGarrett place by digging out Jack's personnel file, but the line is dead. 

Reyes doesn't have Steve's cell, and Danny's reluctant to explain why he does. His gut is telling him something's not right, though. So he claims that the number is still in his contacts from the Howard case, makes the call, and puts it on speaker.

Steve sounds surprised to hear from him...he also sounds tense as hell, causing Danny's stomach to clench up further. 

"Where the fuck are you, McGarrett?" Danny demands. "Is General Pak safe?"

"Yeah – we're all holed up at my place, waiting for back-up to arrive," Steve says. "I've called twice already, but apparently the SWAT team is out on another job."

Reyes frowns. "That's weird. My friend in Dispatch hasn't mentioned any back-up request, and the SWAT vans are still parked downstairs. And I couldn't get hold of your teammates." 

Steve sounds muffled as he says, "Guys, check your phones." In the background, Meka, Chin, and Kono report that they've got no reception.

"Nick must have killed your signals and cloned mine, so HPD never got my calls," he tells them. "Williams, Reyes, listen: Nick Taylor and his men are here to kill General Pak, and us too if we stand in their way. They're probably watching the house already, but my guess is they'll wait for cover of darkness before moving in."

Danny glances out the window, and sees that the sun is close to setting. _Fuck_ , this is bad. 

"Okay," Reyes says, cool under pressure. "We're on our way, with SWAT and everyone else we can mobilize. Hold tight." 

She moves away to call Nalani immediately, and Danny takes his phone off speaker. "Hey," he murmurs, "don't get dead, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Steve promises, and ends the call.

Dispatch is quick to organize HPD's response. But either that Nick guy was listening to their conversation or he's got a police scanner, because 911 calls about gunshots start coming in from Steve's neighborhood within minutes. By the time Reyes and Danny get out there, along with two SWAT vans and three patrol cars, a firefight is raging. 

Five-0 has already done some damage: the bodies of four heavily-armed, black-clad men litter the lawn. Bullets stop coming from inside the house when HPD rolls up, though. Danny hopes that it's Steve's team trying to avoid collateral damage, rather than Taylor's hired killers having hit their targets.

SWAT spearheads the HPD response, convincing two men to surrender and shooting dead another who resists. Once the driveway and yard are cleared, SWAT escorts Reyes and Danny to the front porch.

"Hey, Meka, it's me," Reyes shouts, adding something in Hawaiian that Danny guesses is a code between them. The door swings open to reveal Meka, Kono, another dead assailant on the floor behind them, and walls riddled with bullet holes. Jesus, what a mess.

Meka gives Reyes a strained grin. "Guess you guys get to be the cavalry for a change."

"Where's Steve?" Danny asks, unable to mask his worry.

"Down on the beach," Meka says, "fighting his old buddy. Chin's keeping watch, but it's too risky for us to intervene. Things are getting pretty ugly; Steve's already got a knife wound to one arm." 

The SWAT leader radios for an ambulance, and then signals his team to encircle the house and check for any remaining gunmen. It takes all Danny's willpower not to run in the front door and straight out the back door, and to hell with whoever's lurking in the undergrowth. 

Instead, he asks, "Are the rest of you okay?"

"General Pak's wife has a bullet graze to the shoulder," Kono reports. "I patched her up, but she'll need to be checked out. Otherwise we're fine – just shaken up."

Moments after the SWAT guys declare the back yard clear, three shots ring out. They all run down to the beach, then, and Danny doesn't breathe until he sees that Steve is the man left standing. He's bleeding and sweating and his hair is encrusted with sand...and it says something about Danny's fucked-up brain that Steve has never seemed so beautiful.

Steve orders Chin and Kono to go check on the dictator and his family, and then leans on Meka as they head up to the patio. 

Danny looks back at the body floating in the water. "Who _was_ that guy?"

"Ex-CIA, ex-SEAL," Steve manages, still short of breath. "We were friends." 

There's clearly much more to it than that. Danny doesn't press, though; he has no right to ask those questions of Steve anymore. "I'm sorry," he says, briefly laying his hand on Steve's uninjured arm. "But I'm glad you won."

"Thanks for the assist," Steve says. Danny nods, and walks away.

***


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating / Warnings:** R for angst and references to off-screen violence, including canonical character death. 
> 
> **Spoilers:** minor ones up to 2x01, but this is mostly AU.
> 
>  **Author's note:** Thanks for your patience, everyone! We're getting closer...

As if the Nick Taylor situation wasn't stressful enough, there's even worse to come.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Danny learns that the man who killed Jack McGarrett is still alive. And Victor Hesse has chosen to announce his return in spectacular fashion: Chin Ho Kelly has been left outside Five-0 HQ with a bomb wrapped around his neck, like a macabre Christmas present.

Danny feels like he's been punched in the stomach when Captain Makaha announces the news...he sinks heavily into his chair, speechless. Reyes would no doubt have reacted even more strongly, given how fond she is of her former mentor, but she left two days ago for a week's vacation with Meka and their families. 

Lee and Takahashi would probably give a damn, too, except they're already working a double homicide up in Mililani. Several of the other detectives don't seem too concerned about their former colleague's predicament, but Kaleo steps it up from mere indifference to outright callousness. 

"Eh, that _pilau_ thief had it coming," he says. "But it'd sure be a shame if the bomb blast damaged the Iolani Palace."

Danny clenches his fists to keep himself in check, and is relieved when the captain intervenes. 

"Watch your mouth," Makaha says sharply. "Kelly might be dirty, but he doesn't deserve to die like that. And his wife doesn't deserve to watch it happen, either."

It's hard for Danny to just sit here: he wants to help catch the man who killed his uncle, and he wants to help Chin. But most of all he wants to be there for Steve, who will surely blame himself for not finishing Hesse off three months ago. Steve thinks of Meka, Chin, and Kono as family, and Danny thinks he's already lost enough family for one lifetime.

And okay...so it's been more than a month since the night they talked, and Danny isn't over Steve yet. He can admit that to himself, but still focus on the problem in front of him. 

Dozens of patrolmen plus HPD's bomb squad have already been sent over to the Iolani Palace, though. Danny wouldn't be all that useful; at worst, he might even be a distraction to Steve. So he stays at his desk, keeping himself occupied by filing paperwork and emptying his inbox. 

Half an hour later, he's checking tomorrow's weather forecast for Newark – two inches of snow, with the chance of heavier falls the day after. Then his phone rings, with Steve's name coming up on the screen, and Danny almost knocks over his coffee cup in the rush to answer.

"Danny," Steve says, "have you heard about Chin's situation?"

"Yeah; God, it's fucking _awful_. How are you guys holding up?"

"We're all still alive, at least."

Figuring it can't hurt to offer, Danny asks, "Can I do anything?"

"There is something, yeah, but it's risky."

"Tell me," Danny says.

"We've got a plan to get him out of this, but it means Kono and I have to leave the scene...maybe for several hours. Most of these cops hate Chin, and he needs a friendly face right now. So could you maybe come over here and keep him company? The bomb squad would give you a protective suit, but I can't deny you'd be in serious danger if the collar blows."

Danny feels torn. As much as he wants to comfort Chin, a guy he's come to like and respect, his first obligation lies elsewhere. 

He sighs and says, "It's Christmas, Steve, and I gotta think of Gracie. If I die today, it'd ruin the holidays for her, maybe forever. But how about this: I could stand at a safer distance, in Chin's line of sight, and talk to him by phone?"

After a pause, Steve says, "Yeah, that'd work too. How soon can you get here?"

"I'm on my way."

Danny hangs up on Steve, and knocks on Makaha's door. "Sorry to bug you, Captain, but I'd like to head over to the Iolani Palace and see what I can do. I don't have any bad blood with Detective Kelly, and I've got no active cases."

Makaha studies him for a moment before nodding. "Okay. If this ends badly, it'd be good to have an unbiased account."

Danny uses the bathroom, and grabs some snacks and a bottle of water from the break room; who knows how long he's going to be on the phone. He calmly walks out the front door of the precinct, and then sets out for Five-0 HQ at a run. 

The area around Chin has been cordoned off, with Iolani Palace workers and other civilians evacuated to a safe distance. Beyond the security perimeter, Chin is on his knees with Kono and Steve beside him. Her face is a picture of misery, while Steve looks grimly determined.

Steve sees Danny making his way towards them, and hurries over. "Hey, thanks for coming. Listen: the collar is motion-sensitive, so you need to keep him calm and still, no matter what. We gotta go, but I'll call as soon as I get some news." 

"Good luck," Danny tells him. "And if you shoot Hesse again, go for the face this time, okay?"

Steve's answering grin is positively _feral_. He pushes past the uniforms guarding the entrance to his headquarters, returning with a spare phone and using it to dial Danny's number. Once Danny picks up, Steve goes back to Chin and lays the phone on the ground beside him, adjusting the volume on the speaker setting until Chin and Danny can hear each other clearly.

Kono reluctantly gets to her feet. Through her tears, she flashes Chin the sign for 'I love you'...and Danny's heart just breaks for her when Chin can't return it as usual. Danny hands her a Kleenex as she passes through the perimeter, and she nods in thanks. With her face dried, Kono no longer looks lost and afraid. In fact, she looks almost as scary as Steve. 

Steve clasps Danny's shoulder briefly, and then he and Kono leave to carry out whatever crazy plan they've concocted. 

***

Once they're gone, Danny makes his way around the cordoned-off area until he's on the other side from the bomb squad's command center. It's quieter, over here, and Chin can see him without having to move his head. And the barricade will hopefully be thick enough to protect Danny, if the worst happens.

"Hey, man. Reyes would be here if she could," he tells Chin, propping both elbows on the fence, "but she's over on Kauai."

"Yeah," Chin says. "Meka's parents retired there, so their kids and grandkids go over for Christmas every year. And Reyes is 'ohana – she and Meka were partners for so long, she's part of the family now." 

"See, I understand old folks from New York or Boston moving to Florida for the warm weather. But why would you retire from one tropical island to another?"

"A lot of people migrate within Hawaii, for school or a job," Chin explains. "The Hanamoas have lived on Oahu for decades, but they're originally from Kauai and I guess they got homesick."

"Yeah, I get that. Anyway, that's why you're stuck with me as your babysitter instead of Reyes."

Although Chin is sweating and trembling, he gives Danny the ghost of a smile. "Screw you, Williams, I've got at least half a decade on you."

"Well, if we're gonna play the 'age equals seniority' game, then I should get to lord it over Steve," Danny argues. "I'm three whole months older than him, you know."

Chin sighs. "You guys are lucky. With me and Kono, the age gap was 12 years. That made it all so much tougher."

Danny's stomach twists, and it's not just because he's dangerously close to a bomb: Chin is talking about himself in the past tense, and he's picked up on what Danny's tried so hard to hide.

"What do you mean, 'you guys'? There is no 'us guys', Chin."

"Maybe not yet, but I've noticed how you look at him. He's better at pretending, but I can tell he wants you too."

Given the situation, Danny sees no point in denying it further. "Yeah, okay, you're right. But we talked about it before Thanksgiving, Steve said no, and I have to respect that. I even started dating a nice woman from New Jersey."

"Well, I hope that works out for you," Chin says, wincing as he shifts his weight just a little. Kneeling on asphalt for so long must be agony, but the constant terror must be even worse. 

Seeking a way to keep Chin's mind occupied, Danny says, "Hey, listen: tell me about you and Kono."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know the history there, and I gotta admit I'm curious. And because you need to focus on her as your reason to stay still, and stay alive."

"Yeah, okay," Chin says, looking down at his hands. "Well, we didn't really know each other when we were younger. Kono's parents went through a nasty divorce, and it caused a rift between her mom and my folks. Her dad brought Kono along to some family luaus, but she was always just one of many kids and I was already a teenager. I hardly noticed her." 

"So what changed?" 

"I was out surfing with my cousin Sid one day, years later – and this 12-year-old girl showed up, and blew everyone away with her skills. I got such a shock when Sid said it was Kono. I'd missed a lot of luaus, what with the academy and then working all the crappiest shifts as a rookie. She'd grown up a lot since I'd last seen her."

Chin glances up, as though he knows what Danny was too polite to ask. "No, I _wasn't_ attracted to her then; I just admired her talent and her ambition. We started surfing together, more and more often. And when she joined a pro team at age 15, I tried to make it to all her events."

Danny has strong opinions as to the validity of surfing as a competitive sport, but this is hardly the time and place to voice them. "How long was Kono's professional career?"

"Just three years, until she blew out her knee. Going through surgery and months of rehab left her pretty miserable, so I often stopped by to keep her company. And eventually I realized that seeing my 19-year-old cousin was the highlight of my day, and that I hardly looked at other women anymore. Kono was pretty much everything I wanted." 

"Damn...what did you do?"

"I fought against it – not so much because we're related, but because of the age gap. So I hit the singles scene again, and started dating. I got serious with one woman, Malia, even though Kono hated her." 

Danny thinks of how intently Steve had stared at him and Julia, that night at the sports bar. But even if there was some jealousy involved, Steve's made his position crystal clear. 

"You didn't see that as a sign Kono felt the same way?" Danny asks Chin.

"No, I had no idea. I knew I was important to her, but I figured she saw me as the brother she never had. And a kind of mentor, too...after a few years working various jobs, she decided to join HPD. Kono's mom wasn't exactly pleased about that, though, because she'd been unhappily married to a cop. She convinced Kono that studying first would keep her options open." 

"Ma hoped I'd go to college, too," Danny comments. "But Pop's a firefighter, so he understood why I went straight to the academy instead."

"Same here," Chin says. "Law enforcement is pretty much my family business, and it was all I ever wanted to do. So anyway: Kono enrolled at Chaminade, here in Honolulu, because it had the best Criminal Justice program. And I'd go over to her dorm room most evenings, and talk shop."

"Were you still with Malia, then?"

"Yeah, but not for long: she ended it half-way through Kono's freshman year, saying she hardly ever saw me. And a few months later, Kono declared that she was tired of waiting for me, so she made the first move instead. That was 2004, and we've been together ever since."

"Wow," Danny says. "Gotta love a woman who knows what she wants."

Chin grins. "That's my Kono." 

"And she really proposed to you the day you quit HPD?" 

"Yeah, that's right. It would have been the worst day of my life, if not for her." Chin exhales hard. "But after everything we went through, back then, today she's going to –"

Chin cuts himself off. Danny doesn't want to let him dwell on those bitter memories, or worry about the future. So he says, "Okay, change of subject: tell me about your days as a quarterback." 

"That was a long time ago," Chin objects.

"I know, but you should tell me anyway...or else I'm gonna regale you with stories about my time playing varsity baseball, including a blow-by-blow account of the championship game we won junior year. I've got all the stats memorized, buddy."

With a small smile, Chin says, "All right, all right. I'll talk about anything you like, so long as I can avoid hearing baseball stats." 

They manage to kill another long spell by talking about football, until Chin's voice begins to go hoarse and Danny has reminisced about all the great games he saw at the old Giants stadium. When the lull in the conversation starts to stretch out, Danny changes tack and tells Chin about breaking up Jefferson High's Homecoming dance back in his rookie days.

"Apparently the quarterback got real upset that he didn't get voted Homecoming King; the captain of the soccer team won, instead. So the quarterback jumped up on stage and punched the newly-crowned King to the floor, and then the soccer team's goalkeeper knocked the quarterback out, and then two linebackers and three cheerleaders tackled him. There was pretty much a _riot_ , after that, and the principal called 911. It was weird arresting kids in rented tuxedos and prom dresses, I gotta say." 

That gets a grin out of Chin, and he counters with some funny memories of his own early days on the beat. Jack McGarrett was his training partner, it turns out, and Danny welcomes another perspective on his uncle. Chin paints a picture of a cop devoted to the job at his family's expense, but who loved his kids more than they ever knew.

"I recently mentioned to Steve that we'd watched all his games, and he was shocked – he'd had no idea his dad was even there. Poor communication must be a McGarrett family trait. But I guess it skipped you, huh?"

Danny laughs. "Yeah, I got my big mouth from Ma; she's never short of words, either."

Half an hour later, Danny's in the middle of a story about Halloween, 2002, and how some weird kids calling themselves 'Juggalos' popped him with a stun gun. 

And then there's a sudden clicking sound from the bomb collar, and the flashing red light at the front turns green. Danny instinctively crouches down behind the barricade, holding his breath, _terrified_ , but nothing else happens.

A moment later his call waiting beeps, with Steve's number flashing on the screen. 

Danny tells Chin to hang on, and stabs at the button. "What the fuck just happened?" 

"We got Hesse and disarmed the bomb," Steve says, panting hard. "It's all over." 

"Oh, thank God," Danny breathes. 

"Tell Chin to stay still for now, and then go inform the bomb squad. They can remove the collar safely."

Danny straightens up again and shouts Steve's order to Chin, giving him the thumbs-up as encouragement. Chin just looks skywards, murmuring something Danny can't hear and doesn't need to. Danny runs around the cordon, and approaches the bomb squad leader. 

As the guys in protective suits go out to do their thing, Steve says, "Will you stay with Chin until Kono gets back? Hesse isn't dead – she only shot him through the shoulder. I'm not letting him out of my sight, but he needs urgent medical treatment if he's going to make it to trial."

"Of course I'll stay," Danny says. "Hey, exactly how did you pull off this happy ending?"

"Trust me...you're better off not knowing. This isn't your fight, Danny, and plausible deniability is your best defense."

That just makes Danny even more curious, of course, but he says, "Yeah, okay. I won't ask."

"Good. Tell Chin that Kono says 'aloha', and she'll be there as soon as she can."

When the collar is removed, Chin slumps forward onto his hands, gasping for breath and shuddering all over. Danny gives him a moment and then helps him to the waiting ambulance, relaying Steve and Kono's words en route. 

The paramedics have done their thing, the barricade has been dismantled, and people are filing back into the Iolani Palace by the time Kono arrives. She throws her arms around Chin and presses her face to his neck, and he holds her tight. 

Danny looks away, overwhelmed by the display of raw emotion. "I should get back to the precinct, guys," he says eventually. 

Kono pulls back from her husband and turns to Danny, kissing his cheek. "I'm so glad you were here." 

Chin surprises him with a hug. "Thank you, Danny. I won't forget this."

"Hey," Danny says lightly, "all I did was answer the phone. You guys did all the hard stuff." 

"Still," Kono says, "if there's ever anything we can do for you, just ask."

Danny thinks for a moment, and then says, "Well, actually...how would you feel about teaching me and my daughter how to surf?"

Chin laughs, a rusty but genuine sound, and Kono grins. "Grace finally talked you into it, huh? Sure, I'd be happy to." 

***

"You stayed on the line with him for three _hours_?" Captain Makaha asks, once Danny's returned to HPD.

"More or less, yeah. Detective Kelly's teammates had to go solve the problem someplace else," Danny explains, "and I figured nobody should suffer that kind of ordeal alone."

"Do you know how, exactly, they solved the problem?"

"Well, I know that Victor Hesse guy got shot again. Beyond that, I have no clue," Danny says truthfully.

The captain looks dubious but says, "All right. Write me a short report outlining what happened, and then you can call it a day."

Danny goes back to his desk, feeling a renewed sense of appreciation for his padded chair and the bullpen's AC after standing out in the sun for so long. 

Once he's handed in his account of the day, Danny heads home. Though it's barely mid-afternoon, he feels exhausted now the adrenaline has ebbed away; starving, too, since he didn't have lunch. He only manages to eat one slice of leftover pizza before falling asleep in front of the TV. 

The ringing of his phone wakes Danny from his nap a couple of hours later, but it's his parents on the line and he's always glad to hear from them. Danny grabs a beer from the fridge as he listens to the family's plans for tomorrow: Jen and her husband giving Tyler his first bike, Lisa's daughter Sophia receiving a dollhouse made by Pop, and Matt doing his usual best to spoil his nieces and nephews rotten. 

Since a big UPS box arrived yesterday from FAO Schwarz, Danny guesses Matty hasn't forgotten Grace either. The package his parents sent is much smaller, but Danny knows all the presents inside will have been wrapped by Ma using paper saved from previous holiday seasons. She's so careful not to waste anything...a legacy of her cash-strapped upbringing, he presumes. Ma rarely talks about her life in Boston, though, and Danny and his siblings learned long ago not to ask.

All the Christmas traditions Ma and Pop mention are incredibly familiar, but they make Danny feel even more homesick. So in a way, he values the tone of this conversation more than the content. 

He's pleased that his relationship with Pop hasn't really changed since Ma's revelation. The two of them still share a dedication to a difficult and risky job, a similar sense of humor, and many common interests. And unlike the communicatively-challenged McGarrett men, Pop isn't afraid to tell Danny that he loves him. 

For her part, Ma has seemed happier this past month, ever since Danny read her the letter Winston had written to Jack. It's as though a weight she's been carrying around all these years has lifted. She's even asked Danny to put some flowers on Winston's grave come January 23, to mark the anniversary of his death.

After ending the call with his parents, Danny's looking forward to an evening alone. He's almost glad that Grace is at Rachel's, being fussed over by her visiting English grandmother, and that Julia has gone back to the East Coast for the holidays. 

If nothing else, it's good to have a chance to rest his vocal cords – even by Danny's own standards, he did a _lot_ of talking today.

First of all, Danny cleans his apartment. He only gets Grace for six hours tomorrow, but he wants to make sure everything looks nice. Then he wraps her presents: mostly small things, because Danny can't compete with Stan's money and would bankrupt himself trying. So there's a pink scooter for her to ride around his neighborhood, a new Yankees shirt to replace the one she's outgrown, and the latest book in a series Danny has been reading to her. 

Rachel and Danny had already decided that she would buy their daughter a surfboard, plus all the gear, if he found a suitable teacher and paid for her tuition. Now he sits down and draws up a certificate entitling Grace to surfing lessons with Kono. 

Danny can't wait to see his baby's face when she reads it, because she's talked several times about Kono's amazing skill out on those giant waves. Hopefully Grace will be pleased that Danny has agreed to learn along with her, as a daddy-daughter thing.

Dinner is more reheated pizza, eaten while watching vaguely amusing sitcoms. By about 8.30pm, Danny is on his third beer of the evening and relaxed at last. So when his phone rings, Danny thinks of ignoring it. Then he focuses on the screen, sees that it's Steve calling, and feels his traitorous heart start to beat faster.

"Hey, Danny. I'm sorry to bug you again, but I need another favor," Steve says.

Danny sits up straight. "What's up?"

"Something weird is going on with Victor Hesse. He refused to talk when I questioned him on the way to the hospital today, even after Kono put extra-heavy pressure on his bullet wound."

Hesse really is lucky to be alive after trying to kill Kono's husband, so Danny decides not to comment on the ethical lapse.

"Once Hesse got patched up, he was released to the infirmary at Halawa Correctional," Steve continues. "And an hour ago, he had a visitor."

"Who was it?" Danny asks.

"I have no idea, but whoever it was made him change his tune in a hurry. As soon as the visitor left, Hesse insisted on seeing me immediately. The prison's warden was an old buddy of Dad's, so he phoned and offered to give me special access. I can have a face-to-face meeting with Hesse in private, tonight."

"So what do you want from me?"

Steve clears his throat. "I need your help to interrogate him. Chin is recuperating, Kono won't leave his side, and Meka isn't around. I can't be alone in a room with Hesse, or else I'll be tempted to...to hurt him. Please, Danny?"

Danny's already on his feet, switching the TV off and looking around for his shoes. "Okay, I'll do it. And hey, it's like you told me after we took down Curtis Howard: gotta keep prisoners alive for questioning, right? Victor Hesse is a _criminal_ , not an enemy combatant, and he has rights whether you like it or not. Fuck this up, and the case against him might get thrown out of court. Chin deserves justice, and so does your father."

"Yeah, I know," Steve sighs. "You want me to swing by and get you, or do you want to drive up to Halawa yourself?"

"Come pick me up. I've had a few beers, and I know HPD's running a big drunk driving crackdown tonight."

Danny realizes once he's hung up that he didn't give Steve his address, but is unsurprised when he finds his way to Danny's door regardless.

***

Half an hour later, they're sitting in a prison interview room and Hesse is being led in by guards. He has one arm in a sling, looks battered and broken – Steve's doing, Danny assumes – and is probably on strong painkillers. But there's something else in his demeanor. Either he's the world's best actor, or he's deeply afraid.

Once Hesse has been shackled to the table by his good hand and both ankles, he rasps, "Glad you could stop by, Steve. Who's your friend here?"

"Someone I trust," Steve says flatly. "What the hell was so important, Victor?"

"I have information to offer you, in exchange for protection: information about Wo Fat."

Danny looks at Steve, to see if that name means anything to him, but Steve's face is blank. "Who or what is Wo Fat?"

Hesse scoffs. "You really should know him already, Steve, if only by reputation. Dear me...weren't you supposed to be the best and brightest Naval Intelligence officer around?"

Steve responds by sitting back and crossing his arms, movements leisurely and deliberate. "You're not exactly convincing me to stay and hear you out."

"All right, fine," Hesse tells him, mocking expression abruptly turning serious. "Wo Fat is one of the world's most dangerous men. He has corrupt politicians and bureaucrats in his pocket, and active interests in every part of the underground economy. Organized crime syndicates, terror cells, mercenary outfits, drug-runners, and arms dealers all answer to him." 

"Including you?"

"Yeah – Anton and I worked for him for years, brokering the illicit sale of weapons between Asia and Europe. I was one of his go-to guys, but now I'm a loose end," Hesse says, spreading his good hand as far as the heavy chain will allow. "Wo Fat is ruthless about keeping his operation tidy, and I know too much. Even in maximum security, he can get to me. I need protection from him."

Steve leans forward, then, just inches from Hesse's bruised face. Danny rests his hand on Steve's knee, under the table, as a reminder of the need for restraint.

"You killed my father, you tried to kill me, and 12 hours ago you put a bomb collar around my friend's neck," Steve says, his voice so low and furious that Danny shivers involuntarily. "Why the hell should I do _anything_ to save your worthless hide? Why shouldn't I leave you to rot here in Halawa, and let this Wo Fat guy or his minions do their worst?"

"Because Wo Fat ordered the hit on your father," Hesse counters, "and he remains a danger to you and everyone you care about."

They both stare at him in shock; Danny is the first to recover the power of speech. "What the fuck are you talking about? Why would this international master criminal give a damn about some retired cop in Hawaii?"

Hesse shakes his head. "I'm not saying any more until I get protective custody. If I'm convicted, I want to serve my sentence under a new identity in a mainland prison. And on the off-chance you ever capture Wo Fat alive, I'll testify in return for a significantly reduced stretch. That's my deal."

"Sounds like a lot of demands from a man facing multiple life sentences," Steve says, his eyes narrowed. "And you've given us no evidence that Wo Fat even exists."

"He visited me at this prison, Steve, not two hours ago," Hesse says, tapping the table for emphasis. "So run facial recognition on the surveillance footage, get a lip reader to tell you what he said, and then go talk to your pals at Langley. They've been after Wo Fat for nearly a decade now – they'll be mighty pleased to hear what I know. It'd be like Christmas has come early for the CIA."

"And even if he does exist, why should I believe you killed Dad on his orders?"

"Well, I can prove I arrived in Hawaii four days before you captured my brother, back in September," Hesse tells him. "You might have trouble confirming it with the man who smuggled me here from China, Sang Min, since you so kindly set him free him yesterday. But I'll make it easy for you: get me a piece of paper, and I'll write down everywhere I went on this island prior to knocking on your father's door. You'll just have to retrace my footsteps."

Steve is silent for a long moment, his face unreadable. "All right," he says. "I'll get you into solitary confinement now, under the strictest lockdown. And I'll look into this Wo Fat guy. If I get enough proof that you're telling the truth, then we'll discuss a possible deal."

"Make it quick," Hesse says. "If Wo Fat finds out I've talked to you, I'll be dead for sure...and then you'll never know why he had me question your father under torture before blowing his brains out."

Under the table, Steve clenches his fists. Danny is willing to try and stop him harming Hesse, even if the bastard richly deserves it and even if intervening might be like wrestling a bear. But Steve maintains his self-control; he just stands up and says, "We're done here." 

Danny follows him out, leaving the smirking killer chained to the table. In the corridor, Steve tells the guards to give Hesse a pencil and paper, and to watch over him while he writes. Then he stands still, and takes several deep breaths.

Instead of asking stupid questions, like whether Steve is okay, Danny just says, "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

"There's not much Hesse wouldn't do to fuck with my head, considering our history," Steve replies. "But I think I'll play along, at least for now – keeping him in solitary reduces his chances of escape, anyway." 

"I don't know Hesse like you do, but I read him as being genuinely freaked out. And if he was deliberately manipulating you to get himself a sweeter deal, wouldn't he have been less of a jackass?" 

Steve shakes his head. "He'd know that I would immediately be suspicious. There's too much bad blood between us to ever be remotely civil, even if we may have a common enemy now."

"So what's your next move?"

"I need to talk to the warden, first of all, and then pick up a copy of that surveillance footage. Can you stay here, and grab that list as soon as Hesse finishes writing it? I'll meet you at the front entrance once I've got what I need." 

"Sure," Danny says. Steve gives him a quick nod and then strides off down the corridor. 

Danny leans back against the cinderblock wall, blowing out his breath. If he's having trouble processing the possibility that Jack's death was an organized hit, then how is _Steve_ coping with it? 

He knows better than to expect Steve to open up, at least not any time soon. All Danny can do is stay close, and offer his support as a colleague, cousin, and friend. 

***


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating / Warnings:** R for angst and references to off-screen violence, including canonical character death. 
> 
> **Spoilers:** minor spoilers up to 2x01, but this is mostly AU.
> 
> **Author's note:** I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update this – I got distracted by several other stories, and this chapter proved to be a real challenge.

A few minutes later, one of the prison guards passes Hesse's list to Danny. The handwriting is messy, because his right arm is out of action thanks to Kono, but should be clear enough for Steve's purposes.

Danny's just heading for Halawa's reception area, to wait for his cousin, when a sudden thought makes him stop and double back. 

He finds Steve coming out of the surveillance station for this wing, carrying a DVD which presumably contains a copy of the visiting area footage. Danny pulls him into a nearby men's room, checks that the stalls are empty, and locks the door behind them. Steve looks surprised, but doesn't resist this manhandling.

"Listen, did you call the warden yet?" Danny asks urgently.

"I was just about to – why?"

"Something's not right, here," Danny tells him. "How did Wo Fat, or whoever it was, get in to see Hesse so soon after he was transferred from hospital...don't prison visits have to be authorized way in advance? And do maximum security inmates normally get visitors at night?"

With a frown, Steve says, "You're right; only attorneys and law enforcement can get in at such short notice, and Halawa's visiting hours end at 4pm. Shit, I should have picked up on that earlier." 

"So maybe this whole story about a big bad wolf is intended to distract us while Hesse tries to escape. Kinda like in _The Usual Suspects_ , you know?" 

"Or else Wo Fat is the type of guy who can bribe or intimidate prison staff, and walk away without consequences," Steve counters. "Which means Hesse is in danger from the guards as well as the other inmates."

"Why are you suddenly talking like you believe Wo Fat is real?" Danny asks.

"Because I got my first piece of proof already, just a couple of minutes ago. I snapped a picture of Hesse's visitor, off the security footage, and ran it through facial recognition. An Interpol alert came up for a Chinese national named Wo Fat. He's wanted in multiple countries for murder, arms trafficking, bribing officials, and all kinds of other crimes."

"Huh, really?" Danny says. "Okay, so maybe we're not on a wild goose chase after all. But here's an unsettling thought for you: what if Wo Fat has bought off the head honcho himself? When Hesse demanded a meeting, the warden put the two of you in a room without cameras. Maybe he hoped you'd lose control, and kill the bastard. Two birds, one stone."

"Isamu Quinn is an old Navy buddy of Dad's," Steve protests. "They used to go spear-fishing together. I can't believe he's dirty, or that he'd try to set me up either – he's known me my whole life."

"Even good people can be corrupted, if you find the right pressure point. There's not much I wouldn't do to protect Grace...and most of these guys will have a wife, kids, maybe even grandkids. Lot of leverage, there." 

Steve slumps back against the bathroom wall. "And I thought _I_ was supposed to be the professional paranoiac around here."

Danny recognizes his own words, leveled at Steve the day they met. Christ, was that really six weeks ago? "You're a bad influence, man," he says. "So how do you want to play this?"

"I don't have much choice. If he's transferred anywhere less secure than this, Hesse will probably escape – he's been caught before, and always managed to break out. And anyway, moving him to HPD lock-up or to Five-0 HQ might draw some unwanted attention."  
"Best not to tip your hand too soon, in case Wo Fat doesn't know you came here," Danny agrees. "Just make up some bullshit story to get Hesse into solitary lockdown."

"Yeah, okay," Steve says. "Good thing I'm a practiced liar." 

Someone bangs on the locked door, then, and shouts, "Open up, I gotta go."

The two of them leave the bathroom together, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the waiting guard.

Steve calls the warden and reports that Hesse had seemed feverish and confused, trying to confess to his crimes but not making much sense. So Steve argues that the guy should be under close medical observation instead of in an ordinary cell. 

Warden Quinn, apparently convinced, orders the duty supervisor to move Hesse to a secure isolation room in the infirmary. Only one senior guard per shift is to be allowed near him, as well as the prison doctor. It's the best they can manage, Danny figures; now they just have to hope that Hesse survives the night.

On the drive back to Honolulu, Steve is tense almost to the point of vibrating. Unlike with Chin, earlier today, Danny doesn't think a stream of distracting words will help. 

Instead, he says, "Okay, so where do we start?"

"You don't have to help me with this, Danny," Steve says, glancing over at him. "I've asked too much of you today already."

Danny shakes his head. "Your team is out of commission, and I'm an experienced detective with a personal interest in the case and nothing else to do right now. Makes sense for us to tackle this investigation together."

"It's Christmas Eve – you don't have plans with your girlfriend, or your daughter?"

"Julia is out of town until early January," Danny explains, "and this year I only get to see Grace for six hours on Christmas. So you have my undivided attention until tomorrow afternoon, if you want it."

After a moment, Steve says, "I appreciate that, yeah. Well, finding a lip-reader is my top priority. Everything else can wait until after we see and hear what went down during Wo Fat's visit."

"I think Homicide has sign interpreters on call, to assist with deaf witnesses and suspects," Danny offers. "Some of them might be able to read lips, too."

"I want to keep HPD out of the loop on this one," Steve says, "present company excepted. There's a good reason, trust me, but I'd rather tell you about it later." 

Danny just shrugs and says, "Well, I've noticed Chin and Kono using ASL with each other. It's a long shot, but maybe one of their relatives is deaf?"

"Maybe," Steve says. "They're both pretty reluctant to talk about family stuff, but it's worth asking."

So he dials Kono, and puts his phone on speaker. "Hey, how's Chin doing?"

"Sleeping, finally," she says, sounding exhausted herself. 

"Okay, good. Listen: I'm sorry to bother you tonight, but I need someone to interpret a silent surveillance video. I'd rather not use any of the lip-readers with ties to HPD. Do you know anyone who could help out?"

"My mother reads lips," Kono says, "and she hasn't had anything to do with the department since she and my father split."

"Think she'd be willing to help us on this case, seeing as Chin's involved?"

"Actually, Mom's the only other person in my family who believes in him."

"Huh, okay," Steve says. "Would she be willing to come to HQ now? I know it's the holidays and I know it's getting late, but this really can't wait."

"She's a night owl, so that shouldn't be a problem. I'll text her and let you know if she's available."

Kono phones back a few minutes later and reports, "Okay, she's on her way – should be there soon."

"Thanks, Kono," Steve says. "Anything I need to know for when I meet her?"

"Mom can speak fine and she can still hear some, but it's better to let her read your lips than to shout. Face her straight on, and speak clearly." 

"Would she accept payment for doing this?" Steve asks.

"Probably not, but you know how the custom goes: offer her money anyway."

***

Mayumi Kalakaua is a short, slender woman, her face remarkably unwrinkled though Danny figures she must be at least 50. There are streaks of gray in her straight black hair, which is pulled back to reveal hearing aids in both ears.

When Steve introduces himself, she smiles at him. "My daughter's told me so much about you, Commander, but she didn't mention how _handsome_ you were."

Danny grins, and extends his own hand to Kono's mom. "Detective Danny Williams, ma'am," he says, enunciating carefully.

"The one who stayed with Chin Ho today?" When he nods, she says, "You did a good thing, Detective." 

Steve's already got the surveillance footage cued up on the computer in his office. Mayumi sits beside Steve, motioning for him to play, pause, and rewind the footage as she relays the conversation between Hesse and his visitor:

_"Wo Fat, what are you doing here?"_

_"I have a question for you – one I needed to ask in person."_

_"What is it?"_

_"How much does Steve McGarrett know about what his father was investigating before you killed him? How close is he to the truth?"_

_"Too close."_

_"Well...we can't have that now, can we?"_

_"Please, Wo Fat, don't do this. I've been nothing but loyal, all these years. I did every bloody thing you asked of me."_

_"You have been useful, certainly. But you represent the past, not the future. And your thirst for revenge against Steve McGarrett has now made you a dead weight, to me and my organization. Goodbye, Victor."_

Wo Fat walks away, leaving Hesse wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and the recording ends. 

They run through it again, with Mayumi writing everything down the two men said and Danny and Steve focusing on body language.

"You can tell Hesse is freaked out," Danny points out. "Look at his face when he first sees who's waiting for him. And how he bows his head and closes his eyes before answering Wo Fat's question."

Steve freezes the footage on Hesse's reaction to Wo Fat's final statement. "Yeah, that's fear, starting to shift to anger. I don't think even he could fake that."

"Wo Fat looks so cool and calm, like he's talking about the weather instead of making a death threat." Danny shakes his head. "He's a professional, that's for sure."

When Mayumi presents the completed transcript to Steve, he thanks her and holds out a $50 bill. There follows an almost-comical exchange, as she refuses the money and he insists. 

"If you won't take it for yourself, use it to get something extra for your daughter and son-in-law. They've had a hard day."

Luckily, Reyes had explained this particular Hawaiian ritual to Danny, so he's not surprised when Kono's mom turns away to find her purse and Steve slips the bill into her jacket pocket.

She pats her pocket, rolls her eyes, and leans up to kiss Steve on the cheek. "Good luck finding your bad guy, eh?"

"Mahalo. And remember: please don't tell anyone about any of this," he says solemnly, and she nods.

Mayumi kisses Danny, too. "Happy holidays, Detective."

"Mele Kalikimaka," he says, hoping he pronounced it right, and she beams at him before walking out the door.

Once Mayumi's gone, Danny says, "So what investigation were Wo Fat and Hesse talking about? Didn't your father retire years ago?"

"It's a long story, and we don't really have time for it now. But I just found out last week that my mom wasn't killed by a drunk driver, like Dad always told me. Apparently it was a homicide." 

"Jesus," Danny breathes, "I'm so sorry. And Jack kept investigating it all this time, even after leaving HPD?"

"Yeah, looks like it. So now I'm wondering if Wo Fat either had something to do with Mom's death, or knows who did. Dad left behind a cache of files and physical evidence which I've been trying to make sense of, but it's all just a big puzzle."

Steve tosses Mayumi's transcript back onto his desk, frowning deeply. 

"Well, I like puzzles," Danny says. "And _Clue_ was my favorite board game as a kid." 

He succeeds in getting a small smile out of Steve. "I liked _Risk_."

"Shocker," Danny drawls, before getting back to business. "Okay, so what's the priority now – tracing Hesse's movements, or researching Wo Fat?"

"I want proof that Victor didn't come to Hawaii as a result of me capturing Anton. Let's get that nailed down first before moving on."

Danny understands what that certainty would mean to Steve, in terms of easing his guilt over Jack's death. So he pulls out the penciled list he got from the prison guards, and hands it over. 

Steve scans it and says, "Hesse claims Sang Min met him off the ship and took him to Kishimoto, first of all. Then Kishimoto directed him to Fred Duran, a local arms dealer, who sold him the gun Hesse used on my father." 

"So can we talk to those people?"

"Sang Min is in the wind. We let him out of Halawa to help us find Hesse, but he got free and they disappeared together. Not Five-0's finest hour," Steve adds, a rueful twist to his mouth. "And Meka killed Duran during our original investigation into Dad's death. We can probably find Kishimoto still at his club, though. C'mon, let's go."

Steve speeds across Honolulu, the traffic light this late at night. "Kishimoto is a facilitator for Hawaii's criminal underground – he helps people stay off the grid," he tells Danny. "Since Hesse managed to live here for three months without me knowing about it, he's obviously damn good at it." 

"And why would this Kishimoto guy cooperate?"

"Well, he already ratted on Hesse once. That's how we came so close to capturing him, yesterday."

"Hey, listen, about yesterday: didn't you think I might like to know Hesse had survived?" Danny asks, because it's been bugging him. "Obviously I never met my uncle, but I still care about catching his killer. And no matter how awkward things have been between you and me, I would've helped out in a heartbeat." 

Steve glances at him. "I'm sorry...it just didn't occur to me. As soon as we found out Hesse was alive, all I could think about was finishing the job for Dad's sake. And then this morning, Chin's situation took priority over everything else."

"Yeah, okay," Danny says, because he really can understand that kind of laser focus. If someone murdered Ma or Pop, he doubts anything could distract him from the hunt – except for comforting Gracie, obviously.

***

They pull up outside a classy-looking building overlooking a private beach. Security refuses to let them in, even when they flash their badges. But once the guard passes on the message that Commander McGarrett wants to see Mr. Kishimoto, a well-dressed guy in his 60s comes outside.

He chuckles unpleasantly when he sees Steve. "Don't tell me you lost Victor Hesse _again_ , Commander. I was sure the evening news said Five-0 had arrested him earlier today." 

"Oh, we have him all right," Steve says evenly. "I just want solid proof of something he told me, and I figured you could help me out." 

Shaking his head, Kishimoto replies, "Now that Mr. Hesse is safely behind bars, my motivation for assisting you seems to be reduced."

"Like Sang Min told you yesterday, I'm not here for you. Give me the information I need about Hesse, and I'll leave you alone." Steve spreads his hands. "If you fail to cooperate, well, Five-0 might just start taking a very close interest in your club and your other business affairs."

Kishimoto strokes his white beard, looking thoughtful rather than intimidated. "What do you require of me, exactly?"

"Hesse says he met you on September 16, within hours of arriving in Hawaii. I'd like to see surveillance footage of that meeting, or any other evidence that it took place."

"Do you wish to know what services I may have provided to him?"

"All I care about is whether he was here that day or not," Steve says.

Kishimoto nods. "I have an old man's memory, so I can't tell you offhand, and you'd need a warrant to see my written records. But I have security cameras covering every angle in this building...a useful insurance policy, given the nature of my clientele. Follow me."

Steve is soon sitting at the club's security desk beside a hard-faced guard, with Danny standing behind them. After consulting Hesse's timeline, the archived footage is cued up to the approximate time of his supposed meeting here.

The guard fast-forwards through the images until Steve suddenly says, "Stop – go back."

On the screen, an uninjured, smiling Victor Hesse walks through the club's front door. He's accompanied by a long-haired Asian man, who leads him across the main room and introduces him to Kishimoto. 

The timestamp is 11.47am, 09.16.2010. Wide-eyed, Steve turns around to face Danny, who nods in silent understanding: Hesse was telling them the truth, after all.

Steve stands up, thanks Kishimoto for his assistance, and walks out with Danny at his heels. 

A few blocks from the club, Steve abruptly pulls over and stops the truck. He folds his arms on the steering wheel and slumps forward onto them, like his head's too heavy to hold up any longer. Danny watches him, concerned, but doesn't dare speak.

"It takes over a week to sail from China to Hawaii," Steve finally says, his voice quiet and taut. "So at the time Victor Hesse boarded that cargo ship, his brother wasn't in my custody. I was in Seoul, and my intel suggested Anton was finalizing a big arms deal up in Pyongyang."

"How _did_ you catch him, in the end?" 

"Anonymous tip: Naval Intelligence received word that Anton would be crossing the Korean maritime border and coming ashore at a certain place on September 20, at dawn. HQ suspected a trap, but I went in anyway. And he showed up exactly where and when the source had predicted."

"So now you're thinking someone in Wo Fat's organization betrayed Anton?" Danny asks. "Or even Victor himself?"

Steve shakes his head a little. "Victor truly loved his brother, despite being a soulless bastard in every other respect. But yeah, maybe Wo Fat did it to put me off the scent. Why would I suspect Victor of having any ulterior motive, after I'd just caught and killed Anton? On the other hand..."

When he doesn't go on, Danny prompts, "What?"

"Before I answered that call from Dad's number, Anton said I didn't talk to my father often enough. He couldn't see the screen of my phone; he could only have known if he was in on the plan. And then, just before our convoy was attacked, he smirked at me and said, 'Boom'." 

"So Anton let himself get arrested, in the expectation that he'd be rescued by Wo Fat's men," Danny concludes. "It gave Victor the perfect cover for killing Jack, and gave Anton a chance to kill you too."

"Yeah, and he nearly did. The only reason I shot Anton was that he was about to fire at me. All this time, I thought that my instinct for self-preservation was what got Dad killed. But now..."

"...now you know it wasn't your fault." Tentatively, Danny lays his hand on Steve's back and rubs soothing circles, the way he would if Grace woke up from a nightmare. Steve startles a little, but doesn't move.

"It _wasn't_ , Steve. And if Wo Fat sent Victor to question him, then Jack must have realized pretty quickly that you were just a pawn in a bigger game. I'm sure he didn't blame you." 

Steve's breathing sounds ragged, but he doesn't argue and he doesn't shy away from Danny's lingering, gentle touch. They sit in silence for a while before Steve straightens up, scrubs at his face, and starts the engine again. 

***

Back at Five-0 HQ, Steve insists on seeing what the two of them can learn about Wo Fat on their own. 

"Hesse said the guy had politicians and bureaucrats in his pocket, and we have to assume that extends to law enforcement and the intelligence agencies too. We can't know who to trust."

"Yeah, but I doubt this info will be easy to find without talking to people," Danny counters. "If Wo Fat's activities were common knowledge, at least one of us would have recognized his name. You'd surely have heard of him via Naval Intelligence, especially since you spent five years chasing two guys who apparently worked for him." 

"Good point." Steve sighs. "Still, let's just do some basic research to start with. If we get nowhere, we'll try reaching out." 

So Danny borrows a laptop from Chin's hoard of electronic equipment, and settles down on the small sofa in Steve's office. "You focus on English-language sites," Steve tells him, powering his own computer up. "I'll see what I can find on the Mandarin side of things."

"You know Chinese? Really?"

Steve smirks a little. "I'm fluent in three languages and I know the basics of many more."

Danny, who can swear in Italian and just about scrape by in Spanish, rolls his eyes. "Smugness is not an appealing quality, Steven, no matter how hot you are."

When Steve glances at him, eyebrow raised, Danny bites his lip and looks down at the laptop screen. Working closely with Steve is one thing; commenting on his attractiveness is another. He has to remember and respect the boundaries, here. 

And even if Danny proves himself invaluable, making the breakthrough that nets them Wo Fat, Steve is still his cousin and still a closeted serviceman. No matter how much Danny hopes otherwise, _nothing_ has changed.

For a while, they read in silence. Danny finds nothing too useful on Interpol's 'Wanted Persons' website, apart from Wo Fat being sought by several Asian countries and a couple of Eastern European ones, too. 

Wo Fat's doesn't appear on the FBI's equivalent, though, and the CIA doesn't exactly publicize its own most wanted list. They're more the 'assassinate first, crow about it later' type of guys.

A google search produces mostly irrelevant results. There are many Chinese restaurants across the US called 'Wo Fat's', and just scrolling past their menus makes Danny hungry. And a number of other people are named Wo Fat, too, including a law professor in Canada, an internet entrepreneur in Vietnam, and a classical musician in New Zealand. 

Danny does find a few scattered references to their elusive master criminal, though. The Singaporean government declared Wo Fat public enemy number one in 2004, after three ministers, two generals, and an admiral admitted accepting bribes from him. In 2008, a human rights organization named him as a major arms supplier to warlords and dictators across Africa. And last month, a freelance Colombian journalist alleged that Wo Fat and the FARC rebels were trading guns for cocaine. 

But there's one article that really makes Danny sit up and pay attention. Three years ago, the _Washington Post_ reported the deaths of half a dozen American intelligence operatives somewhere in Asia. According to an unnamed CIA insider, they were sent to capture Wo Fat; instead, he had them all killed. 

The paper was unable to get official confirmation that the mission ever occurred, though, and Danny can find no follow-up stories. Still, it backs up Hesse's claim that the Agency is desperate to catch Wo Fat. 

It's looking more and more likely that the guy who killed Jack McGarrett is a reliable source of intel about an even worse killer, and how's that for a kick in the teeth?

Danny reports these findings to Steve, who is trawling through his own search results with the occasional help of a dictionary. The way he's frowning and muttering to himself suggests it's not going too well, but Danny doesn't think translation is the only problem.

Steve eventually looks over at Danny and says, "You've heard of the 'Great Firewall of China', right? The Communist regime polices online content generated inside the country, removing any mention of topics like Tiananmen Square or Tibetan independence. But it also censors information about senior officials who have been disgraced or who defected – and it looks like Wo Fat's one of them." 

"Huh, okay. So you're looking through Mandarin-language sites based in other places?" Danny asks.

"Exactly. I've found a few Taiwanese websites that mention Wo Fat, and some articles written by Chinese expatriates. It seems like his father was a high-ranking spy who was killed during an overseas mission, sometime in the '90s. Wo Fat himself worked counter-intelligence, and rose to become the youngest-ever Colonel in the MSS." 

Danny must look blank, because Steve explains, "China's Ministry of State Security is like the CIA, FBI, and NSA rolled into one. Anyway, somewhere along the line Wo Fat discovered the joys of capitalism and crime. He left China, went underground, and started to build his global network." 

With a sigh, Steve sits back in his chair. "And yet none of this tells me why the hell Wo Fat might have wanted my dad dead...or my mom, for that matter."

"Your mother wasn't a super-assassin or anything?" Danny asks, only half-joking. This whole situation is so goddamn surreal, he wouldn't be all that shocked if it were true.

That draws a brief grin from Steve. "Well, if she was, her cover was pretty deep: she worked as an elementary school administrator, she volunteered at a local hospice, and she helped out with Mary's Girl Scout troop."

Steve's expression softens as he talks about his mom, and Danny wants so badly to hold him, to comfort him. Instead, he laces his fingers together in his lap and says, "You think whoever killed her was aiming for Jack, then?"

"Yeah, probably. But after getting his discharge from the Navy and becoming a cop, Dad hardly ever left Hawaii – and the international arms trade is way outside HPD's jurisdiction. So besides looking into Mom's death, what was he investigating that could have pissed Wo Fat off so much?" 

Steve shakes his head, looking exhausted and frustrated, and Danny can empathize. After 34 years of certainty about his own parents, Ma's confession about Lieutenant McGarrett had come as a bolt from the blue. And now, in the space of a week, Steve has learned that his mother's car crash was no accident and that his father's murder may have been ordered by a mysterious foreign criminal.

"All right," Danny says. He gets up, grabs two fresh bottles of water from the refrigerator, and hands one to Steve. "Enough research, for now. I think it's time to reach out and touch someone." 

Steve drains half the bottle, and Danny tries not to watch the way his throat works as he swallows. 

"Yeah, okay," Steve concedes, "but I'm only willing to discuss this investigation with a few select someones."

"Time zones will make it tricky, anyway," Danny points out. "It's the middle of the night on the mainland...and Christmas morning, too. Not many people are gonna feel chatty right now. Hell, it's probably too late to call anyone local, either."

"Yeah, but O'Connor from NCIS is kind of an insomniac. She might be awake." 

"Actually, what about trying Agent Bennett too?" Danny suggests. "She used to work at the FBI's Honolulu office – she might have some useful connections."

Steve shakes his head. "I hardly know her, and one day working on the same case isn't enough for me to trust her." 

Since Danny is honestly a little surprised that Steve trusts _him_ with this, he doesn't argue. Instead he says, "Well, in a few hours I could call an FBI buddy of mine back in Newark. I'm pretty sure she doesn't celebrate Christmas, so she might be willing to talk shop."

When Steve presses his lips together, Danny adds, "Listen: Sonia's the best Fed I ever dealt with, and she had my back during some organized crime raids that turned ugly. I have total faith in her, and I think she could help us."

"All right, but only if you tell her the minimum amount possible," Steve says, and Danny nods. 

"Sure. And to complete our alphabet soup, what about the CIA? With your history, you must know people there."

Steve gives a short, bitter laugh. "Two weeks ago, I would've called my old buddy Nick Taylor. He used to be CIA, and still had some ties to Langley. But there is someone else at the Agency, a guy I've worked with pretty closely before. My team got him out of a tough spot, once, so he owes me one."

In what circumstances had a bunch of SEALs rescued a spy, Danny wonders, and on what continent? But he's sure there'd be no point in pressing for details.

"What about asking your girlfriend?"

Steve hesitates, looking oddly conflicted. "It's unlikely that Cath would have heard something about Wo Fat if I didn't, but I should at least try. And her ship's in the Persian Gulf, so she'll most likely be awake."

***

Explaining that he might need to talk about some classified material with his contacts, Steve shuts himself in Kono's office. 

Meanwhile, Danny watches the highlights of the Jets–Patriots game from earlier today. Even though his team annihilated their oldest rivals, Danny's kind of glad he wasn't at the Meadowlands to see it happen – the snow was coming down _sideways_. Maybe living in Hawaii is making him soft.

When Steve comes back, Danny sets the laptop aside and asks, "Any joy?" 

"I couldn't get through to my CIA contact, but I've left a message for him to call me. Cath said she hadn't heard of Wo Fat, and I didn't want her to risk digging around in the system in case his name is flagged."

"Okay," Danny says, "and what about O'Connor?" 

"Well, it turns out NCIS is working a case that dovetails with ours." Steve sinks into his office chair with a heavy sigh. "One of the Marine battalions based in Hawaii recently deployed to Helmand province. And in the last month, three shipments of ammo and guns never made it to their forward operating base. A foreign arms dealer got tipped off about the timing and routes of those supply convoys, which are always varied for security reasons. He sent his mercenaries to hit the trucks, and apparently resold everything to the Taliban for a tidy profit."

Danny sucks in a breath. "Fucking hell. It's hard to believe any soldier would reveal that information, knowing the weapons could be used against their own people."

"I know," Steve says, "but unfortunately it does sometimes happen. Anyway, NCIS narrowed it down to two enlisted men in logistics. They both had major financial pressures, and both received large bank deposits the day after each convoy got hit. One guy owed tens of thousands to his bookie; the other was being blackmailed by a male prostitute, who threatened to expose him and get him kicked out of the Corps if he didn't pay up."

Jesus, what a stupid ugly mess. Steve looks grim, and Danny remembers what he'd said about not jeopardizing his career in order to fuck men. If this is what can happen under 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', it's no wonder Steve's played it safe all this time.

"So what's the connection to Wo Fat?"

"NCIS agents in Afghanistan interrogated the suspects. The gambler broke first, and confessed that the two of them met with the arms dealer here before shipping out to Afghanistan. The guy gave them a fake name and their descriptions of him weren't that helpful. But O'Connor now thinks it may have been Luther Magallanes, a big-time European arms dealer who used to supply Al-Qaeda in Iraq."

Danny frowns. "Wait, I know that name. Wasn't that the murder case Five-0 was investigating yesterday?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "He was shot execution-style and dumped in the ocean." 

"Let me guess: you think Victor Hesse killed him on Wo Fat's orders?"

Steve nods. "Maybe Magallanes was a subordinate who screwed up, or maybe he was a rival. Either way, I figure Wo Fat told Hesse to eliminate the guy, get the hell out of Hawaii, and go back to arms trafficking. But the only reason he'd disobey orders and stick around would be to get revenge on me. That's what the whole bomb collar thing was really about – killing Chin to make me suffer."

"And that'd explain why Wo Fat now thinks Hesse is a liability," Danny concludes. His stomach growls loudly, and no wonder...it's past 1am, and dinner feels like a distant memory.

"Hey, listen: there's not much else to do here, for now," Steve says. "Want me to drive you back to your place, so you can grab some food and get some sleep?"

"Are you going home?"

"No – I'll research for a few more hours, then get started making calls. I've got to find a prosecutor willing to hear me out first thing on Christmas morning, and maybe a judge too. The sooner I can go back to Hesse with a possible deal, the better." 

"Then I'm staying too, on one condition," Danny says. "Know anywhere that delivers, this time of night?"

Steve stares at him for a long moment, and then says, "That Chinese place I took you to, the day we met. It's gotten my team through a few all-nighters."

So much has changed since that first meal they shared, Danny thinks. Steve was closed-off and hostile, interrogating Danny sharply and refusing to cede an inch of ground. And now they're working together so well, bouncing ideas off each other like they've been partners for _months_.

"Great. I'll have sweet and sour pork plus half a dozen cream cheese wontons, thanks," Danny tells him, and is unsurprised when Steve looks unimpressed. This time around, though, he doesn't criticize Danny's dietary choices; he just pulls out his phone, and places the order. 

Danny sinks back into the sofa cushions, and closes his eyes against the glare of the overhead lights. This has been the longest and weirdest Christmas Eve he can ever remember...and that includes the time five-year-old Matty swallowed a tree ornament and wound up in the ER, and the time Newark PD got called to a brawl between two rival mall Santas and all their elves.

It must be almost dawn on the East Coast, now. This time last year, Danny and Grace were at his apartment in Jersey. She had already woken him up, eager to open her first lot of gifts for the day. 

But even without his daughter around, it doesn't look like he'll get much sleep this Christmas morning either.

That's the last conscious thought Danny has. Next time he opens his eyes, Chinese food is laid out on the desk and Steve is looking down at him, smiling a little. For a big guy, he sure can move quietly...must be all that ninja training, Danny's sleep-fogged brain decides.  
The take-out smells delicious, and Danny licks his lips as he sits up. "Hope you gave the delivery driver a decent tip," he croaks, rubbing his eyes.

"Of course," Steve says, passing Danny his containers of food, a plastic fork, and a bottle of water. 

"Good. I delivered pizza, my senior year," Danny tells him, between mouthfuls. "It's a tough gig."

"Anyone ever rob you?"

"Three times – yeah, it wasn't a great neighborhood," Danny adds, when Steve's jaw drops. 

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"The first mugger was pretty big, but I'd been taking on kids taller than me since kindergarten; I managed to fight him off. Second time, a few months later, it was two masked guys with baseball bats. They got my money, and the pizzas too, but they didn't hurt me."

Steve is holding his chopsticks motionless in midair, like he's too busy listening to remember about eating. 

"You didn't quit, after that?" 

"Ma wanted me to, but I was determined to earn enough to buy myself a decent car. Third time, though, the son of a bitch had a gun. I got a good look at his face before he took the cash and knocked me out. Once I'd recovered, the detectives sat me down with a sketch artist. They matched my description to a local ex-con with a history of violent muggings, and I picked that guy out of a line-up. I would have testified, too, but he got shanked in prison before the trial."

"Jesus," Steve says. "So is that whole experience what made you want to be a cop?"

"I'd always been interested in law enforcement, but yeah – it made up my mind. I wanted to catch bad guys like him, and help the people they hurt."

Steve nods, with what seems like an approving smile on his face. Danny looks away, because it's harder than he'd expected to have this much of Steve and nothing more.

But Danny's here to do a job. So he says, "Hey, change of subject: can you tell me more about Hesse? If you want me to be in the room when you interrogate him again, it'd be good to know what questions to ask."

"Some of it's classified," Steve says, "but I'll give you everything I can."

***

Danny already knew his cousin had an impressive brain, but the amount of information he's memorized about Victor Hesse is kind of scary. Once he's finally done talking, Steve prints out the NCIS file on Magallanes that O'Connor had emailed over and Danny immerses himself in the documents. He never expected to get a crash course in international arms trafficking when he got out of bed 20 hours ago, that's for damn sure. 

Just after 4am, Danny calls his buddy from the Newark FBI office. Steve is sitting a few inches away, listening in. 

"Agent Patel," she answers crisply.

"Hey, Sonia, it's Detective Danny Williams here." 

"Oh, hi Danny," she says, her tone much warmer. "I didn't recognize your new number. How's life in Hawaii?"

"I'm doing okay, thanks. Listen, have you got a minute to talk? I need to ask you something, but it has to be in complete confidence."

"Sure – what is it?"

Danny takes a breath. "Do you know anything about a Chinese criminal called Wo Fat?"

"I've heard the name, yeah," Sonia says after a moment. "A classmate of mine from Quantico is heading up a RICO investigation in New York. Her team's looking into the recent rise of yakuza activity in the city, and she's convinced a few disaffected low-level members to talk. And apparently Wo Fat is kind of a Keyzer Soze equivalent for these guys; nobody's certain if he exists, but they're all afraid of him anyway."

"Huh, really," Danny says, not mentioning that he'd made that same comparison earlier. Beside him, Steve has tensed up, with a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Has your friend said anything else about him?"

"Her taskforce is really focused on the yakuza themselves, so I don't think she's pursued that tangent. But she thought it was strange that a Chinese man should have so much influence over the Japanese underworld, and so do I. In my experience working organized crime, the Asian gangs tend to stick to their own ethnic groups. So if Wo Fat is real, then he must be something special – and _very_ dangerous." 

Sonia pauses, and then adds, "Why are you asking, Danny?"

Danny goes for a simplified version of the truth, highly attuned to the distrust Steve's radiating. "A suspect mentioned Wo Fat as some big-time crime boss who scares the shit out of him, so I just wondered if there was anything to it. Our guy's not Japanese, though; he's from someplace in Europe."

"Interesting," she says slowly. "So either Wo Fat's a universal mythical bad guy, or else he's got his fingers in a lot of pies, in a lot of places. But you'd prefer I didn't tell my friend in New York about this conversation?"

"Please don't," Danny says, "but I'll be in touch again if I can offer anything concrete. Thanks for your help, Sonia."

"No problem...and Happy Christmas."

As soon as Danny's ended the call, Steve jumps to his feet and starts pacing. 

"The yakuza are more active here than anywhere on the mainland. If Wo Fat has ties to the local branch, that might explain his presence in Hawaii. And I know Dad was secretly investigating _something_ to do with Japan, so maybe that's why Wo Fat sent Hesse after him."

"Right, okay," Danny says, the words half-swallowed by a yawn. 

"Sure you don't want to head home?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, I'm sure – but I could do with some sleep."

"There's a decent-sized sofa in Meka's office, with a pillow and blanket," Steve tells him. "He's a big believer in power naps."

"I knew I liked that guy. Wake me up if you need me, okay?"

Steve just nods, sitting back down in front of his computer...hoping to find links between Wo Fat and the yakuza, no doubt. In the dimly-lit office next door, Danny toes off his shoes and lies down. The sofa is pretty comfortable, and he's short enough to be able to stretch out fully.

Danny can't help imagining what's happening back home, right now. Pop will be at Mass, because he held onto his faith even after Ma lost hers. Ma will be on her second coffee of the day, cooking up a storm and singing along to cheesy carols on the radio. Jen and Lisa will arrive at the house soon, their husbands and kids in tow, and Matt will be driving over from his luxurious Midtown condo with a trunk full of presents. 

It _hurts_ to be so far away from them all. But in a weird way, Danny has still wound up spending Christmas morning with family. He pulls the blanket up over his shoulders, to counter the chill of the AC, and closes his eyes. 

***


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating / Warnings:** NC-17 for explicit sexual content (at last!). Includes non-graphic references to off-screen violence, including canonical character death; there's also one brief mention of sexual assault, as a general category of crime. 
> 
> **Spoilers:** one spoiler from 2x14, but this is mostly AU.
> 
>  **Author's notes:** apologies for the delayed update – I got sidetracked by writing sequels to two of my previous AUs. If you're interested, [here's the sequel to _Sympathy for the Werewolf_](http://ariadnes-string.livejournal.com/130938.html?thread=2700922#t2700922), and [here's the sequel to _Mamo's Books and Music_](http://ariadnes-string.livejournal.com/130938.html?thread=2685050#t2685050). Both are currently WIPs, in comment!fic form; I'll post them up properly once they're done.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for your patience...I hope the wait for this chapter was worth it!

When Danny wakes up on Christmas morning, it's bright daylight outside. Fumbling for his phone, he's shocked to find it's almost 9am. He really didn't expect to nap for over four hours – Meka's sofa is surprisingly comfortable.

Danny immediately thinks about calling his daughter, but then decides against it. Rachel's family tradition is to open presents after a leisurely breakfast, and Danny doesn't want to interrupt that; he'll talk to Grace later.

He sits up, stretching out his arms, and looks across to see Steve sitting at the desk in his own office. Jesus, does the guy ever stop working? Danny's movement must catch Steve's eye, because he gets up and comes over.

"Morning. How'd you sleep?" Steve says, leaning against the doorframe to Meka's office. He's just out of the shower, apparently; his hair is still damp, and his feet are bare. Danny's morning wood stiffens further at the sight of Steve like this, a little vulnerable and more appealing than ever. It's a good thing Danny has a blanket draped across his lap right now. 

"Pretty well, actually. You?"

Steve shrugs. "I had too much research to do. Plus, my CIA contact returned my call around 6am and had a lot to say."

"Any of it useful?"

"Yeah; he hadn't worked the Wo Fat case, personally, but he knew enough to fill in some gaps. And he told me about an analyst at Langley who's been tracking Wo Fat for years, both officially and on her own time. She thought she'd pinned him down in Macau, three years ago, and sent an Agency grab team...but it was a trap. They were all killed, including her fiancé."

"Jesus, how awful." That must have been the mission reported by the _Washington Post_ , Danny realizes. "Did you get in touch, see if she can help?"

Steve shakes his head. "Speaking from experience, it's hard enough to get through the holidays when you've lost someone. Having me call and dredge everything up again would only make her Christmas worse. Better to give her a break from it, for just one day."

This depressing conversation has wilted Danny's erection pretty effectively. So it's safe now for him to stand up and stretch out properly, cracking his spine. 

Steve takes a step back and says, "Hey, you want some coffee?"

"Fuck, yes," Danny says, making Steve smile briefly before he walks over to Five-0's kitchenette. 

Danny heads for the bathroom, where he stares at himself in the mirror: yesterday's crumpled shirt, disheveled hair, pillow crease across his cheek, and dried drool at the corner of his mouth. 

"Looking hot there, stud," he mutters, and splashes cold water on his face to wake himself up.

He finds Steve waiting for him outside the bathroom, sipping black coffee and holding out another large cup. Surprised to find it's made just how he likes it, Danny can't help making a low hum of pleasure as the taste floods his mouth. Steve slants him a glance, but refrains from any mocking comments.

"Any news about Hesse?" Danny asks, once they're back in Steve's office.

"Well, he's still alive, at least," Steve tells him. "I called first thing this morning to check. So it's possible that Wo Fat doesn't know we were there."

"Which would seem to rule out the warden being in his pocket," Danny says. "Maybe Wo Fat just bribed or threatened whoever was on the front desk, to let him in, and it didn't go any higher up the food chain."

"Yeah, I think so. I got the current desk guard to check the visitor logs from last night, and Wo Fat is listed under a fake name as Hesse's attorney. It'd be way too risky for him to come back and kill Hesse personally, so I figure he'll arrange for a guard or another prisoner to do it." 

Danny nods. "Wo Fat probably didn't think he was under any time pressure – Hesse is pretty much the textbook example of a rat in a cage." 

"That's why I have to move fast today, to question him and get him off the island before Wo Fat finds out he talked. I already spoke to District Attorney Ahn, and convinced her that Hesse needs protection in exchange for his intel. She's willing to come to Halawa this morning and negotiate a deal with him."

Steve finishes his coffee, and starts collecting up the print-outs from their night of research. "I also got hold of Judge Fischer, who says he'll sign off on the plea bargain straight afterwards so I can put Hesse on the next plane to the mainland." 

"I can't believe you managed all that before 9am on Christmas," Danny says.

"Well, it helps that the DA is Buddhist and the judge is Jewish," Steve explains. "Plus, Karen Ahn handled a lot of Dad's cases back when she was an ADA. And Michael Fischer's daughter was in the Girl Scouts with Mary; his wife and my mom were close friends." 

"Thank God for religious diversity." Danny yawns. "And the smallness of this island, too."

"Yeah – it can be a blessing as well as a curse." 

"So are you keeping Governor Jameson in the loop on this? Catching Hesse was the reason she set up your taskforce, after all."

"I haven't talked to her since I got the call from Warden Quinn last night," Steve says. "She works hard, and she deserves a day off. I'll let her know what's happened tomorrow."

Steve disappears into Chin's office, and returns with a digital video camera and tripod. "I'm due to meet the DA at Halawa at 10.30 – I'm taking our recording equipment because I don't want to risk using the prison's stuff. You still want to come with me?" 

"Sure," Danny says. "I'll need to shower and change first, though."

Steve looks him up and down, reminding Danny of the moment they first saw each other. 

"I've got another set of spare clothes in my locker here, but they probably won't fit you. We can swing by your place on the way, and pick up some breakfast too." 

"Kai's Coffee near HPD does great food, and I know they were planning to open today," Danny says, as they head downstairs and load everything into Steve's truck. "Plus, I get a discount because I'm dating one of the baristas."

"So is it serious between you two?" Steve asks, glancing over as he pulls out of Five-0's parking lot. 

It occurs to Danny that he could lie, and give the impression that he's gotten over his insane attraction to Steve. He wrestles with this for a long moment before admitting, "Nah, we're just casual. Julia's still hung up on her ex, and I'm still...getting myself sorted out, I guess."

Steve presses his lips together, and keeps his eyes on the road. Danny considers asking about Lieutenant Rollins, in return. But he decides he'd rather not hear how their love spans the oceans, or how the months between her visits to Hawaii drag by like years. 

***

The discordant sound of Rachel's ring tone fills the air, then, and Danny's gratitude for the distraction makes him answer more politely than usual. Still, he's relieved to hear his daughter's voice and not his ex's.

"Merry Christmas, Danno!" 

"Hey, monkey – Merry Christmas to you, too. Did Santa stop by last night?"

"I'm not a baby anymore; I know Santa isn't real," she informs him. "But Mommy and Stan and Grandma gave me lots of cool stuff."

"Oh, yeah? What was your favorite present?" he asks, already anticipating the answer.

"A pink surfboard...it's so, so awesome. Can I _please_ learn to surf now, Danno? Mommy says you have to agree before I can start."

Danny's glad that Rachel kept her side of the bargain, allowing him to surprise Grace with the gift certificate later.

"Well, I guess it'd be a waste of that nice pink board of yours, otherwise," he says, mock-thoughtful. "But I'll think it over real hard, all day, and let you know for sure when I see you."

When he ends the call, Danny catches Steve's curious glance and says, "Yes, Grace is getting surfing lessons for Christmas. Kono agreed to teach her, and me as well."

Steve grins. "Good for you. Just mind you do what Kono tells you; she's got a mean right hook."

They pick up breakfast to go from Kai's, Danny getting his usual chocolate croissant and Steve choosing something predictably healthy. As traffic's light today, it's not long before they're at Danny's apartment.

It's weird to let Steve into his private space, but having to sleep out in the living room at least means that all Danny's most personal things – like his sex toys – are carefully hidden away. So he pours Steve a glass of juice, gets him a spoon for his fruit salad, and heads for the shower. 

Short on time and with Steve just a thin wall away, Danny doesn't jerk off like he desperately wants to. Instead, he scrubs himself clean and then runs the water cold until he's gasping for breath. 

Putting on fresh clothes and fixing his hair completes the wake-up process for Danny. He comes out of the bathroom feeling ready for anything, but stops short when he sees Steve studying the framed photos on the kitchen wall. 

There's his parents' wedding picture, in which Ma is visibly pregnant; Pop is beaming at her like a besotted fool, while her own smile is smaller but still fond. Beside it is a formal portrait of eight-year-old Danny with his younger siblings, Lisa just a toddler in his arms. And then there are various candid shots, including one of Danny holding his newborn baby girl, and one Jen's husband took of the whole Williams clan at Grace's birthday last year.

Steve turns around as Danny approaches, and the desolate look on his face makes Danny's heart clench. Now he thinks about it, he can't recall seeing any photos on the walls at Steve's house. Are all those family souvenirs up in the attic, or did Jack get rid of everything that reminded him of the wife he lost and the kids he sent away?

Danny glances at the kitchen clock, and sees they have enough time for him to sit down and eat. Pulling the croissant out of its paper bag, he says casually, "So now you know my deepest, darkest secret."

When Steve tilts his head questioningly, Danny explains, "My hair is naturally wavy. That's why I have to use so much product, to get it to behave."

Steve looks again at the picture of Danny as a child, and turns back to him with a grin. "Yeah, no kidding – you had actual ringlets for a while, there, like a little golden-haired cherub."

With a mouthful of pastry, Danny can only scowl at him rather than retaliate. It's worth it, though, to see Steve smiling. He's pleasantly surprised when Steve grabs the OJ and joins him at the table, topping up his own glass and filling another for Danny.

"Why don't you just wear it short, like I do?"

"Tried that in high school," Danny says. "Turns out being the smallest guy in your class and having bright blond hair is still plenty enough to get you hassled, even without the 'girl curls'. And now I think it looks better slicked back than cut short."

Steve nods, whether in acknowledgement or agreement. Then he sits quietly, sipping his juice, until Danny's done eating. 

For a moment, Danny lets himself imagine them as a couple, having breakfast together every morning. They might share this kind of companionable silence as they swapped sections of the newspaper, or maybe get more talkative once the coffee kicked in. 

Danny bites his lip, piles their dirty dishes in the sink with more force than is necessary, and says, "Okay, let's go."

***

They get to Halawa early, and Steve immediately orders the guards to transfer Hesse into the same interrogation room as last night. As the two of them sit waiting for the DA, Danny notices how nice the Christmas tree in the corner looks – far better than the crappy little one he's got at his place. It makes him think of home, yet again, and everything he misses about spending the holiday at Ma and Pop's. 

Danny opens his mouth to kvetch to Steve, then closes it. There's a high chance Steve hasn't had a decent family Christmas since his mother died, and Danny's troubles are _nothing_ by comparison. 

When Karen Ahn arrives, right on time, Steve makes the introductions. She must be in her late 40s, with no visible grays in her short black hair. Danny only knows the recently-promoted DA by reputation: a powerful courtroom performer, and a tough but fair boss. Steve's taking a risk, letting anyone else know what's really going on, and Danny hopes this woman is worthy of his trust.

They take a few minutes to quietly discuss how they're going to play this. Ms. Ahn outlines the options she can offer Hesse, and reminds Steve of what's legally permissible. In return, Steve warns her how personally hostile this interrogation is likely to be.

She nods. "This island is small, and the cops often have a long personal history with the criminals. I've seen some ugly confrontations, in my time."

And then they're admitted to the room where Hesse is already chained to the table, looking a little less fragile and freaked out than he did 13 hours earlier. 

As Danny sets up the video camera, Hesse's cold blue eyes are fixed on Steve. "You look like you got even less sleep than I did, Steve." 

Steve shrugs. "Needed to confirm your intel about Wo Fat, and see if it was worth protecting. I decided it was, so I brought along someone with the legal authority to offer you a deal. This is Karen Ahn, District Attorney for Honolulu County."

She nods at Hesse. "You are entitled to have an attorney present during this interrogation. And as an Irish citizen, you may also consult a representative from your embassy."

"Bugger all that," Hesse says firmly. "I just want to confess and get the hell off this island."

Danny raises his eyebrows: last night, Hesse had talked about what he wanted to have happen _if_ he was convicted. 

"What made you change your tune?" Steve asks, maintaining a better poker face.

"I've had some time to think. You've got me red-handed on killing your father, and sticking the bomb collar on your man Kelly. That's already a guaranteed life sentence, right there. And almost everything else I've done was on Wo Fat's orders. So if coming clean helps you catch him, it'll be worth it."

Hesse leans closer and adds, "Anyway, this means I get to make you _suffer_ , Steve. I get to tell you every last detail of how your dear old dad suffered, before I finally put a bullet in him." 

Danny watches, with sickened fascination, as Hesse and Steve glare at each other. The air feels thick with potential violence.

Ahn is a professional, so she quickly regroups and takes over. "Very well. Here are your options for a plea bargain, Mr. Hesse. First, you can admit to the aforementioned felonies concerning Jack McGarrett and Chin Ho Kelly, and the murders of Luther Magallanes and Dr. Frank Galey, and receive life without parole." 

"Next," Hesse says flatly, his lip curled.

"Second: confess to those and any other crimes you've committed on Hawaiian soil, and provide Commander McGarrett with significant and substantial evidence concerning the Chinese national known as Wo Fat. That'd result in a life sentence, but with the chance of parole after 30 years."

"And if McGarrett ever catches Wo Fat alive, and I spill my guts in court?"

"We'd reduce your minimum sentence to 20 years," she tells him. "That's the best deal I can give you, and under the circumstances it's very generous."

Danny knows from their earlier conversation that Steve is far from happy about this. But he's willing to accept the compromise, in the interests of getting his hands on Wo Fat. 

"Where would I serve my time?" Hesse asks.

"A private prison in Arizona handles our inmate overflow," Ahn says. "You would be sent there with a new identity, and the Hawaiian government would continue to pay for your maintenance." 

Hesse shakes his head. "How many Irishmen do you think are in Arizona prisons? It wouldn't be hard for Wo Fat to find me."

"I know you can fake an American accent," Steve points out. "I heard the audio from that bomb threat you made in Singapore a few years back."

"Sure I can, buddy," Hesse drawls, sounding authentically Californian to Danny's ears. "But that won't stop Wo Fat from hunting me down. If you think he's pissed at me right now, it'll be so much worse once he finds out I've betrayed him."

"The company which owns that Arizona prison has facilities all over the country, and they've worked with us before to secretly transfer our people from state to state," Ahn tells him. "It's like witness protection for inmates. We'll do our utmost to keep you alive, Mr. Hesse, wherever you end up."

"Do I get to be in solitary?" Hesse asks. 

"If that's what you want," Ahn says. 

That much time alone would drive Danny nuts, but Hesse seems to be looking forward to it. "Okay, fine – where do I sign?" 

"First, you talk," Steve orders. "And then we decide if you've given me enough about Wo Fat to justify the shorter sentence."

"Are you sure you don't want an attorney present, to check over the plea agreement?" Ahn asks again.

Hesse shakes his head. "Let's just get this over with."

So Steve switches on the video camera, and the games begin.

***

First of all, Danny reads Hesse his Miranda rights. He doesn't know if Steve or Kono bothered during the arrest yesterday, and he doesn't know if the guy will survive to trial. But they can't risk having this evidence ruled inadmissible.

"Victor Hesse," Steve says formally, "what do you know of Wo Fat's background in China?"

Danny had expected Steve ask about his father's murder, straight off, and apparently Hesse did too. It's fucking bizarre to see a cold-blooded killer _pout_ , like he's been denied his favorite toy. But Hesse just sighs, and starts to talk. 

He sketches Wo Fat's origins within Chinese counter-intelligence, and then outlines the financial and logistical structure of his organization. Danny has to marvel at Hesse's memory as he reels off aliases, bank account numbers, and the names of shell corporations. He also pinpoints the locations of safe-houses and operational bases around the world.

Hesse stays calm, almost robotic, until he gets onto how Wo Fat rules his subordinates. 

"Wo Fat's a martial arts master, and I've seen him kill with his bare hands. He rarely shows emotion, but his eyes...God, it feels like he can see right through you." Hesse shakes his head. "I served him for nearly a decade, working my way up through the ranks to become one of his most trusted men. But I never felt totally safe, and I never stopped fearing what he'd do to my brother if I stepped out of line."

Danny feels a tiny surge of sympathy for Hesse, at that: his concern for Anton seems to be his only redeeming characteristic. As a protective older brother himself, Danny can appreciate that. But he thinks of Jack, and Chin, and hardens his heart.

Hesse keeps going, pausing only to sip water. Steve leads the interrogation, with Danny chipping in here and there. The DA sits quietly, and listens.

At Steve's prompting, Hesse names a number of politicians and law enforcement officials Wo Fat has bought off across the world – including, worryingly, some on the US mainland. He also lists the murders Wo Fat has personally committed, along with those he ordered Hesse and others to carry out. 

Hesse then admits to his own role in brokering illicit weapons sales across the globe, including to terrorist groups and rogue regimes. It's the kind of intel the CIA would literally kill for, and Danny's sure they'd be delighted to receive a copy of this transcript. Hell, it probably won't be long before the spooks come looking for Hesse in person. 

Steve must be thinking along the same lines, because he asks Hesse about the Agency's botched attempt to capture Wo Fat in Macau.

"Oh, we were real proud of that one," Hesse says. "That CIA analyst, Jenna Kaye, was just like you: a little doggy with a bone. It took some doing to lay a convincing trail of breadcrumbs for her, but it worked. Having her fiancé among the victims made it even sweeter."

"Wo Fat has a habit of killing people and creating more enemies for himself," Danny observes, his stomach twisting at Hesse's gloating. "Highly skilled and highly motivated enemies, even. It's gonna bite him in the ass, one day soon."

Hesse shakes his head. "I wouldn't count on Agent Kaye as an ally, if I were you. Wo Fat was planning on telling her that her man survived the massacre, and would be sent home to her alive if she followed orders. He thought she could serve as a Trojan horse...a way to get at Steve sideways." 

"Why are you warning me?" Steve asks, spreading his hands. 

"Don't get me wrong, Steve," Hesse says. "I do want you dead, but I want Wo Fat destroyed more. I think that's why I'm still alive: he couldn't have imagined that I'd turn to you, instead of killing myself or just waiting helplessly for the ax to fall. But the enemy of my enemy is my friend, you know?" 

"Oh, I know," Steve says grimly. For a long moment, he and Hesse just look at each other.

This time, it's Danny who intervenes. "Okay, let's move on. Tell us about that arms dealer, Luther Magallanes."

Steve shoots him a quick glance, which Danny reads as grateful.

Hesse confesses to torturing and murdering the longtime rival of Wo Fat's, who'd recently undercut his lucrative contract with the Taliban. Without any visible sign of remorse, he also admits to killing the doctor who saved his life.

***

Finally, after over two hours of non-stop talking, they get to the elephant in the room: the deaths of Steve's parents. 

Steve has been leaning forward, but now he sits ramrod straight. "Before he died, my father Jack McGarrett was conducting a secret investigation into Japanese organized crime. Is there a connection between Hawaii's yakuza branch and Wo Fat?"

"Only in the sense that they're another outpost of his global empire," Hesse says. "Hiro Noshimuri is the oyabun here, the big boss, but he doesn't jump without asking Wo Fat how high." 

Danny frowns. There'd been a front page picture, yesterday, of Governor Jameson posing with a prominent businessman named Hiro Noshimuri. He'd donated a truckload of toys to a local charity, and the Governor had been helping him distribute them at a big Christmas party for underprivileged kids. 

Maybe it's a common name, here. But then Danny glances over at the DA, and sees that she's biting her lower lip. He makes a mental note to follow up on this Noshimuri guy. 

"So if Dad's digging was getting inconvenient," Steve says, "why didn't Hiro kill him?" 

"He pretends to be an upstanding member of society, so he tries to keep his hands clean," Hesse tells him. "His brother Koji planted the car bomb that killed your mother, though. Did you know that, Steve? And did you know he was a cop who worked with your father?"

Steve's eyes have widened, but he says nothing. Hesse looks pleased to have scored a direct hit, and Danny's fingers twitch with the urge to slap the smirk off the sadistic bastard's face. 

Instead, he asks, "Had Mrs. McGarrett done something to annoy the yakuza, personally, or was it to send a message to her husband?"

Hesse shrugs, wincing a little as the movement jars his shoulder wound. "You know, I'm not quite sure whether they meant to kill her, or if the bomb was intended for him. Either way, it seemed to achieve the goal: Jack McGarrett shut down his anti-yakuza taskforce, and spent the rest of his career doing ordinary detective work."

"That still doesn't answer the question," Steve persists. "Why go after my father again, 18 years later? And why did Wo Fat bring you over here on a slow boat from China, when he could have hired a local or flown a pro killer in from the mainland?"

"I think Wo Fat is starting to doubt Hiro's loyalty; he gave me the job because he trusted me. And because I _volunteered_ to do it, to get you off my back," Hesse says with a slow, cruel smile. Danny desperately wants to throttle him, and he's impressed that Steve hasn't. 

Hesse explains how Wo Fat set up Anton's capture in Korea, and it's pretty much what Danny and Steve had worked out for themselves. The emotional angle is new, though.

"Wo Fat wanted to use my brother as bait for you, but also to keep me in line," he tells Steve. "If I didn't play my part well enough, Wo Fat threatened to have one of his goons shoot Anton."

Danny nods. "So what did he want you to ask Jack McGarrett about?"

"Shelburne," Hesse says.

Steve frowns, and Danny doesn't think he's faking his confusion. "What is that: a person, a place, a program codename?"

"Animal, vegetable, mineral?" Hesse mocks. "I have no idea. All I know is that Shelburne had something to do with the death of his father, and that Wo Fat wanted answers." 

"So he had you interrogate Jack McGarrett about it?" Danny asks.

"Yeah. But Jack was a tough old man, and he refused to talk even when I got...creative. I imagined he was _you_ , Steve, which made it that much more fun." 

The sick, twisted son of a bitch goes on to describe how he tortured Jack, in graphic detail. Under the table, Danny moves his knee so it's touching Steve's – this must be terrible for him to hear. But Steve remains stony-faced. 

"Did Dad seem to know the word 'Shelburne'?" he asks, once Hesse has wound down.

"Oh, for sure. His poker face wasn't as good as yours. And he recognized Wo Fat's name, too."

"So...on the phone, when Dad told me not to give you anything? It was because he already knew you'd kill him, no matter what I did."

"He knew his number was up, yeah. But I figured it was worth a try: get you to free Anton, ruin your career in the process, and make Wo Fat happy. Three birds with one bullet, you might say."

"But you failed on pretty much all counts," Steve points out, eyes glittering as he leans across the table. "I put two bullets in your brother, I got a great new job, and now your boss wants you dead."

If looks could kill, Danny thinks, Steve would be lying lifeless on the floor. But Hesse just says, "I still made you bleed, where it really counts."

When Steve doesn't reply, Danny asks, "You got anything else for us, Hesse?"

Slowly, Hesse shakes his head. "I think I've said more than enough."

"Wait," Steve suddenly says. "Last night, you told Wo Fat that I knew too much about Dad's investigation; that I was too close to the truth. What did you mean?"

Another of those mocking smiles spreads across Hesse's face. "Ah, I wondered if you'd pick up on that. Wo Fat ordered me to do one last thing, before leaving Hawaii – find out how far Jack McGarrett had gone with his digging into the yakuza, and if Hiro Noshimuri's cover was blown. So I broke into your house."

This time, Steve can't hide his shock. "When? How'd you get past the alarm?"

"Five days ago, just after I killed Magallanes. And I paid this stoner bloke, a real technical genius, to hack the security company's server. So it would've looked like you entered the code yourself."

"I haven't noticed anything moved or missing."

"I got my start robbing houses at age 11, Steve; I know what I'm doing. But you obviously don't know shit about covering _your_ tracks. A battered, grimy toolbox sitting under a nice antique desk?" Hesse makes a tsking sound, like someone reprimanding a small child. "Very suspect, that."

Danny watches with interest as Steve swallows hard – Hesse must be talking about the cache of evidence Jack left him. 

"Did you take anything out of the box?" Steve asks.

"No, but I took photos. They're on the smartphone I was carrying when you arrested me yesterday."

"So you already emailed them to Wo Fat," Danny says, but Hesse shakes his head.

"He's paranoid about electronic communication; it's one reason he's survived this long. I was supposed to sail out of Honolulu later that day, and rendezvous with him in Manila. Right now, all Wo Fat knows for sure about Jack's investigation is what you saw me tell him last night." 

Steve nods, and then motions to the DA to step outside with him.

Once he and Danny are alone, Hesse lounges back as far as his chains will allow. "You should really work on your poker face, too, you know. Your schoolgirl crush on Steve is probably visible from space."

Danny forces himself not to react, but inwardly he curses. Jesus, how obvious must he be if a total psychopath like Hesse can see it? 

Luckily, Steve and Ahn soon return. "As agreed," she says formally, "your sentence will be cut to 30 years' imprisonment in exchange for the information you have provided, with a further one-third reduction if you testify at Wo Fat's trial." 

The DA slides the plea document across the table, and Hesse reads through it carefully before signing. Danny is sitting close enough to Steve that he can feel a little tension ease from his body, now the deal has been done. It's a start, at least.

At Steve's signal, Danny switches off the camera and starts packing the equipment up. 

"Arrangements will be made to fly you to Phoenix later today," Ahn tells Hesse. "You'll be accompanied by a security contingent, to protect you and to prevent your escape."

Hesse ignores her, and looks at Steve. "Happy hunting. I hope you and Wo Fat end up killing each other."

"You'll have plenty of time to stare at the walls of your cell and fantasize about that," Steve tells him, and walks out without another word.

***

Outside the prison gates, the DA glances around and then beckons Steve and Danny closer. "Listen," she says. "If Hiro Noshimuri really is the head of the yakuza here, we've got serious problems. He's a huge investor in Hawaii's economy, and he's a significant campaign contributor to Governor Jameson. A close personal friend of hers, too, from what I've seen." 

"She might not know anything about his shadier dealings," Steve points out. "He's obviously good at hiding in plain sight."

"Or she might know _everything_ ," Ahn says. "I suggest you be very, very careful what you tell her, about Hesse's confession and about where he's being sent. I know the Governor's your direct boss, but if she's been colluding with the yakuza then there's a chance she's in Wo Fat's pocket too."

Steve's whole posture seems to sag. God almighty, Danny thinks, as if the poor guy didn't already have enough shit to worry about.

Danny looks at his watch and says to Steve, "Hey, I need to get home – Rachel's dropping Grace off in an hour. I know you have to go get Hesse's paperwork signed off, so do you want me to call a cab?"

"Your place is on the way to Judge Fischer's, actually," Steve says. "I'll drive you."

After they've traveled a few miles in silence, Danny asks, "Do you want to talk? Your parents, Wo Fat, maybe the Governor...it's a lot to take in."

Steve shakes his head. "I can't – not yet, anyway. Would you mind doing the talking for a while? Chin says you were pretty good at distracting him, yesterday, and I could use some distraction right now."

"Sure," Danny says, and tells him about Grace and her starring role as a shepherd in the class Nativity play. "It was a step up the showbiz ladder, for sure, because last year she played one of the sheep."

That gets a laugh out of Steve; Danny smiles, and keeps going.

Outside Danny's apartment, Steve cuts the engine and looks over at him. "Thanks again for helping Chin, and for all this stuff with Hesse and Wo Fat too. You really went above and beyond, these past two days."

Danny shakes his head, feeling too tired to pretend anymore. He wants to tell the truth: that there isn't much he wouldn't do if Steve asked, and that he's just as attracted to him as ever.

But Danny really can't lay all that on Steve again, especially not when he seems to be fraying at the edges already. So he just says, "No problem. Get some rest, okay? You look _awful_."

"Gee, thanks. Anyway, have a good time with Grace today." 

As he's unbuckling his seatbelt, Danny pauses. "Hey, listen: I'm glad you know that Jack didn't die because of you. Now maybe you can grieve without all that guilt weighing you down."

Steve tilts his head and looks at him intently, as if through new eyes. "Yeah," he says slowly, "I guess I can."

As soon as Danny's out of the truck, he speeds away.

Danny is very glad he tidied his apartment yesterday, because today he only has enough energy to make himself some coffee and collapse onto the sofa. 

Luckily, Grace is in a similarly lethargic state when she arrives, thanks to a formal English-style Christmas lunch. Danny experienced that just the once, years ago, when Rachel's mother visited for the holidays. And at least that was in Jersey, where snow was thick on the ground and all that hot, rich food seemed appropriate. 

The two of them unwrap their presents from Danny's parents and siblings, first of all, before he calls Newark. Lisa's already taken little Sophia home to bed, but everyone else is still at the house. Grace gets to talk with her cousins Frankie and Tyler, and Matt tells her jokes until she's groaning from too much laughter. 

Then Danny and Grace exchange their own gifts. She likes her new Yankees shirt, and immediately puts it on over the pretty dress she's wearing. But her face lights up when he hands her the certificate for surfing lessons.

"Kono's really going to teach me? You're really gonna surf?"

"Only the best for my girl," Danny says. "And yep, I'm coming along too, so you'll have somebody to feel superior to while you're learning. I bet I'll wipe out way worse than you will, out there."

"You could have told me over the phone that you already decided, instead of making me wait," Grace points out, and he smiles at her.

"But then I'd have missed seeing your face, monkey – and anyway, it's not healthy to get everything you want, all at once. You'd probably have exploded from excitement, just like you're about to explode from all the nice food you ate at lunch."

Grace pulls a face, rubbing her tummy, but perks up as she hands over her gifts. There's a pink picture frame that she decorated in art class, filled with a photo Pop took of Danny and Grace together last Fourth of July. Danny promises to give it pride of place on his desk at the precinct.

He grins when he opens the other parcel. It's a pair of board shorts, reassuringly plain compared to the garish ones he's seen at the beach. They're exactly his size, and blue to match his eyes. Danny senses Rachel's hand at work, and sends her a text to thank her for the unexpected kindness.

Afterwards, they stretch out on Danny's sofa-bed and watch the same movie as always: _The Muppet Christmas Carol_. It came out when Danny was a teenager, and Ma bribed him to take his younger sisters. He secretly loved it, though, and eventually bought it on DVD when Grace was little. Rachel had thought the adaptation an insult to a great work of British literature, but Gracie shared his appreciation and it's become a daddy-daughter tradition.

And then, once Grace has regained her appetite, they make like Danny's Jewish friends back home and head to Chinatown for Christmas dinner. It's a fun, relaxing end to a weird and stressful day.

***

Or it would have been, except that Steve calls Danny again around 10pm. "Hey, can you come over?"

"Something go wrong with Hesse's transfer to Arizona?" 

"Not that I know of," Steve says. "I just really need to see you."

Danny hesitates, thinking about saying no. He's already dropped Grace back at Rachel's; now he could really do with some peace and quiet, and a decent night's sleep.

And maybe Danny should put some distance between the two of them, because this level of intense contact isn't helping him get over his futile crush. But a month of barely seeing or speaking to Steve before that hadn't helped much, either. 

"Please, Danny?" Steve adds, when he doesn't answer. His voice sounds tight and strained, and Danny simply can't deny him.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes." 

There's no wreath on the front door at Steve's place, and no Christmas lights either. Steve opens the door, his face flushed and his feet bare. Jesus, he looks wired, like he still hasn't slept and is just running on caffeine and adrenaline. He steps aside, wordlessly, to let Danny in.

"Hey," Danny says, "what's going –" 

But that's as far as he gets, because Steve kicks the front door closed, shoves Danny up against it, and _kisses_ him.

Steve is plastered against his body, hands cupping his face and tongue in his mouth. For a moment, Danny is too shocked to react. 

And then, like a switch has been flipped, Danny goes from recipient to participant. He clamps his hands to Steve's hips to pull him even closer, kissing him back with every ounce of pent-up desire. It's good, it's wild, it's exhilarating...it's what Danny has wanted all along.

Steve groans into Danny's mouth and then breaks away to bite at his neck. With the sting of teeth against his skin, Danny wakes up from his daze and realizes two things: Steve's movements aren't quite as coordinated as usual, and Danny could fail a breath alcohol test just from sharing the same air. 

"Wait," Danny says, pushing at Steve's chest until he takes a step back. "Just how drunk are you right now?"

"Not very," Steve insists, but he's swaying a little on his feet.

"You smell like you bathed in Scotch."

"You never heard of Dutch courage?" 

Keeping his hands pressed flat against the door, to hold himself back, Danny says, "If you have to get this liquored up just to kiss me, something ain't right. And hey: what about Cath?"

Steve shrugs. "We're real casual, like you and Julia. So what's the problem – isn't this what you wanted?"

"I do want you," Danny says, "but I want more than just a drunken one-night stand. If we do this now, you might start hating me as soon as the hangover kicks in." 

"I won't," Steve protests.

"Can you at least tell me what changed your mind, then?"

"It's hard to explain. But it's not just the booze, Danny." Steve drops his gaze and says, "I want this, I swear."

He seems so dejected that Danny almost relents. The lizard part of his brain is clamoring for him to take what's on offer, in case the chance disappears. And his body aches to feel Steve against him again, reckless and desperate and so, so hot. 

But Steve is exhausted, emotionally overloaded, and drunk. Danny is tired, confused, and – if he's totally honest with himself – in love with Steve. 

This is a toxic combination, and a _very_ bad idea. So Danny shakes his head. "Tell me that again in the morning, and I'll believe you." 

"You're seriously saying no?" Steve looks bewildered, and Danny guesses he hasn't struck out too often.

"No, I'm saying 'not yet'. If you still want me tomorrow, when you're stone cold sober, then I'm all yours. In the meantime, have you got a spare bed I can borrow?"

Steve sighs, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, okay. You can sleep in my old room." 

He wanders around, checking the locks, while Danny pours himself a big glass of water and presses another into Steve's hands. Steve then leads the way upstairs, and shows Danny to the room next to his.

Nothing's left of the boy who used to live there, no posters or books or trophies, and Danny wonders if that was Jack's doing or if Steve cleaned it all out himself. He also wonders whether this was Jack's or Winston's childhood room, before that.

Danny hesitates, but can't help himself – he reaches out to hug Steve, who clings to him like he's a life preserver in a storm. Danny kisses him on the cheek, soft and sweet. "Merry Christmas, babe," he says.

"Merry Christmas," Steve echoes quietly, almost like he'd forgotten what day it was. Danny lets go, and shuts the door behind him. 

***

In that narrow bed, with its musty but clean sheets, Danny had expected to toss and turn all night. Thankfully, he was wiped enough to drop off pretty much immediately and sleep straight through. 

The next morning, he wakes to the sound of footsteps on a wooden staircase and a door closing downstairs. It takes him a moment to figure out where he is, but then memory comes flooding in along with the sunshine through the open curtains. 

In the harsh light of day, Danny can't quite believe he turned Steve down. What if Steve's changed his mind overnight? Would it really have been so bad, having Steve one time and then never again? Hell, maybe it would've scratched this itch once and for all, allowing Danny to move on and fall for someone who isn't related to him.

But the thing is, Steve may have been too drunk to make a good decision. Danny's parents had drummed into him the need to be respectful of girls; of boys as well, once he came out. And even if they hadn't, Danny's worked far too many sexual assault cases to _ever_ take someone's consent for granted.

Steve's reasons for saying no, back in November, were strong and pretty fundamental. Danny has to be damn sure Steve had good cause for saying yes, all of a sudden, beyond being worn-out and fucked-up.

There's no point second-guessing his own decision now, so Danny rolls out of bed and goes over to the window. He's not surprised to see Steve down on his private beach, doing warm-up stretches in close-fitting swim trunks. Danny can't help staring intently, aware that he might have talked himself out of the chance for any more than this.

Steve wades into the shallows and dives under, heading straight out to the horizon. He's a thing of beauty in the water, so powerful and yet graceful too. Danny watches until he's just a dark dot against the wide expanse of blue.

When Danny heads for the bathroom, he finds a neatly-folded towel and a set of clean clothes on a chair outside. He hesitates for a moment: did Steve leave these here for Danny, or are they meant for after his own swim? 

But Danny's alternatives are to wear yesterday's clothes, or to wander around in a borrowed bathrobe. So he picks up the pile and goes to take a shower. The water pressure's fantastic, for such an old house. Danny stands for long minutes with his head bowed, letting the pounding heat drain some of the tension from his neck and shoulders.

He dresses in black boxer-briefs that barely fit across his ass – Danny has more junk in the trunk than Steve does – an old SEALs T-shirt, and a pair of gray sweatpants. He has to adjust the leg length to avoid falling flat on his face, but they're soft and comfortable.

Danny goes downstairs, yawning as he makes a beeline for the coffee machine. Luckily it's not too complicated, and soon enough he's sitting on Steve's sofa with a cup of joe and the Sunday paper. The front page is dominated by coverage of Chin's bomb ordeal on Friday, which seems like forever ago, now. 

It's maybe a quarter hour before Danny hears the outdoor shower running, and another few minutes before Steve comes inside wearing only a towel.

Judging by the way he freezes when he sees Danny, Steve wasn't expecting him to be awake so early. "Hey," he says, after a long moment. 

His roughly-dried hair is shedding droplets of water onto his shoulders and chest. The towel is slung low enough for Danny to see the sharply-defined cut of Steve's hips, and the treasure trail of dark hair leading down from his navel. 

Christ, Steve looks like a porn star right now. Inside his borrowed underwear, Danny's cock begins to harden.

Making a conscious effort to focus on Steve's face, Danny says, "There's coffee for you in the pot." 

Steve nods, and pads over to the kitchen to pour himself a cup. He leans against the doorframe, facing Danny from across the living room. 

"So how are you feeling this morning?" Danny asks. 

"A little hung-over," Steve admits, "but going for a swim helped clear my head."

Danny takes a deep breath, and decides to cut to the chase. "And how are you feeling about _me_ , this morning?"

"Same as last night," Steve says, without hesitation. "I'm sorry for how I sprung it on you, Danny, but I meant everything I said."

Relief floods Danny's system, tinged with anticipation. "Good," he says. "I did, too."

Steve puts down his coffee cup, and takes a step closer. "Looks like I was right," he says, staring at the stretch of his faded shirt across Danny's shoulders and the rolled-up cuffs of his pants. "My clothes don't fit you so well."

"So come take them off me, then." When Steve doesn't move, Danny adds, "Or we could just hang out, maybe talk some more."

Steve shakes his head. "I am so damn sick of talking." 

He walks towards Danny, expression determined, _hungry_. He sheds his towel, and Danny's breath catches at the sight of Steve's gorgeous cock and all that golden skin. He can't quite believe this is actually happening.

Instead of sitting down on the sofa, Steve straddles him and settles his bare ass on Danny's thighs. It makes sense that Steve would want to feel in charge, right now, and Danny has no problem with ceding power to him.

So when Steve tugs at the hem of his T-shirt, Danny obediently raises his arms and lets Steve pull it over his head. Then Danny places both hands on Steve's hips and looks up at him, waiting. 

"You're the quarterback," he says quietly. "You get to call the plays, here."

Steve makes a low wordless noise, presses Danny back against the sofa, and leans in to kiss him.

He tastes of coffee and the ocean, now, not booze; this kiss is more controlled and cautious than last night's, but still so intense. Danny tightens his grip on Steve, as much to convince himself this is real as to hold him close.

Danny is pretty much trapped, with Steve's mouth covering his, muscular thighs pinning his legs down, one big strong hand planted on either shoulder...and God, he's _loving_ it. 

But submitting to Steve doesn't have to mean being totally passive, so Danny starts to touch him wherever he can reach. He runs his hands down Steve's legs, from the curve of his hips to the tips of his toes. On the way back up, he experiments by using his nails a little, and is gratified to feel Steve shudder against him. 

Danny hums into Steve's mouth and cups his ass, squeezing just a little, but doesn't go any further than that. Instead, he slides his fingertips up Steve's back, either side of his spine, and slowly scores his nails down again. 

With a moan, Steve moves even closer to Danny, bringing his hardening cock into contact with Danny's skin for the first time. Steve's balls are resting against Danny's own erection, through two layers of cotton, and it's all Danny can do to hold still and not thrust up against him. But he promised to let Steve take the lead, and he intends to keep his word.

Steve breaks their kiss and presses his forehead to Danny's, breathing hard. 

"You okay?" Danny asks.

"Yeah, just...it's been a long time. I haven't so much as kissed a guy since I was 17 years old." 

And that was 17 years ago, Danny realizes. Fuck, no wonder Steve's on edge right now.

"We can take this as slow as you like – no pressure to do anything you don't want to," he says, rubbing Steve's back soothingly, but Steve huffs out an almost-silent laugh.

"That's not the problem, trust me. I want you too much; I want _everything_."

"Well, you've got me," Danny tells him. "And there's not much I'm not willing to try."

Steve kisses Danny again, harder and deeper this time, like any uncertainty has been overcome by urgency.

Danny curves his hands around Steve's waist, and explores his chest as best he can in the limited space between them. Steve bites Danny's lip when he tugs on his nipples, which isn't exactly a deterrent to doing it again. He also rubs his hard, leaking cock against Danny's belly, more and more insistent, and Danny just can't wait any longer. 

He pulls away from Steve's mouth, and kisses along his jaw. "Let me touch you, Steve," Danny murmurs. "I'll make it so good for you."

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "Give me your hand."

Danny lifts his right hand to Steve's mouth, and can't help shivering as Steve gets it nice and wet. Jesus – if having Steve lick his palm and suck his fingers feels this good, getting a blow job from him will probably blow Danny's mind.

When Steve releases Danny's hand and shifts back a little, making room, Danny doesn't make him wait another second. He takes hold of Steve's cock, and begins to stroke it.

"Oh, God," Steve whispers as he watches Danny's hand move. Danny glances down, too...but as hot as it is to touch Steve, it's even hotter to see Steve's expression. That perfect poker face is long gone; his eyes are wide, blown dark with desire, and he's biting his reddened, swollen lips.

It feels almost too intimate, watching Steve like this, knowing that no man has done this to him in nearly two decades. So Danny turns his head to the side and licks Steve's bicep, tracing over the line between green-blue tattoo and golden tan with his tongue. 

"Been thinking about getting my hands on your cock since we met," Danny says, lips moving against salt-tinged skin. He kisses a path up Steve's right arm and down the curve of his ribcage, trying not to obstruct Steve's view of the action.

He uses his left hand to caress Steve's balls, rolling them in his palm. Steve growls, deep in his throat, and Danny feels the reverberations everywhere they're touching.

"I _dreamed_ about you," Danny continues, tightening his grip on Steve's erection and speeding up. "How it'd feel to have your body pressed against me – how you'd look, how you'd taste." 

Then he sucks Steve's nipple into his mouth and bites down gently, and that's it. Steve groans Danny's name as he comes, coating his hand and belly. Danny stares, transfixed, his heart pounding like he's the one getting off. 

Steve slumps forward against Danny, rapid breaths gusting hot on his neck and trembling arms draped over his shoulders. Danny lays his clean hand on the small of Steve's back, holding him up and holding him close.

"Christ," Steve says eventually. "I haven't come that fast since I was a teenager."

He hasn't been with a guy since then, either, and Danny can't help wondering if that's a coincidence.

But he just says, "Hey, it's a total compliment. You can stun me with your stamina next time," and kisses Steve long and slow. 

When Steve pulls back, he looks down at where Danny's cock is straining against the front of his sweatpants. "What do you want, Danny?"

What he wants most, right now, is to fuck Steve: it's pretty likely Danny would be the first, and he's feeling a primal urge to lay claim to Steve's ass. But that'll have to be something they work up to nice and easy, if at all. 

So Danny says, "Your hand, or your mouth – whatever you choose."

Steve licks his lips. "I really want to blow you. But I should warn you, I've never actually done this before."

Those words send such a rush of heat through Danny that it's a moment before he can speak. "That only makes it hotter, believe me."

With a quick grin, Steve slides off Danny's lap and kneels in front of him. He grabs his discarded towel from the floor and wipes away his come, then tugs his pants down over Danny's thighs. Danny is about to lift his ass off the sofa again, so that his underwear can be similarly dispatched, but Steve goes still at the sight of what Danny's wearing. 

"It was either borrow yours, or go commando," Danny explains, uncertain of Steve's reaction. Then Steve meets Danny's eyes, and it's obvious that he's anything but mad. So Danny tilts his hips up, making Steve's boxer-briefs stretch tight over his erection.

"Jesus, Danny," Steve says faintly. Danny's cock hardens even more under Steve's hot gaze, every pulse and twitch clearly visible through the thin black fabric. 

When Steve runs his fingertips along the length of it, Danny can't help bucking up into the delicate touch. Steve carefully unbuttons his fly, easing the head of Danny's cock through the opening. Without any further hesitation, he leans forward and wraps his lips around it.

"Oh, yeah," Danny breathes. 

Steve looks up at him, eyes wide, and for a moment Danny is afraid that Steve's going to freak out. Maybe the reality of being a cocksucker is too much of a shock, after all this time. 

But then Steve gives a long, low moan, closes his eyes, and takes Danny's cock deeper into his mouth.

"God, babe, that's it," Danny says, fighting desperately to hold his hips still – it'd be seriously uncool to choke him on his first attempt. Danny keeps his hands fisted against the sofa, too, to remind himself that Steve's the one in control here. 

But Steve is already sucking him in further, of his own free will. The look of concentration and pleasure on his face is incredible to see; Danny thinks he'll remember that as much as the physical sensations, later.

He's been turned on since he first saw Steve in the doorway, so he's already close when Steve wraps his fist around him. The steady movement of Steve's big, strong hand on the shaft of Danny's cock, combined with the way he's licking around the head and across the slit...it's enough to drive Danny out of his goddamn mind. 

"Oh, fuck, _please_ don't stop," Danny groans, toes curling and muscles clenching up. And then he's got just enough breath and brainpower left to gasp, "Watch out," before his orgasm hits.

Steve moves back, but not quite out of range. Danny sees the first streak land on Steve's face, and then his eyes fall shut and white-hot pleasure shakes him to the core.

When his head stops spinning, he opens his eyes to see Steve watching him. 

"Christ, Steve...that was so, so good," Danny tells him.

There's still a smear of come on Steve's chin. Danny manages to unclench his fists – Jesus, he left nail marks in his palms again – and reaches out to wipe it off. But then Steve ducks his head, and sucks Danny's come-covered fingertip into his mouth. 

Danny's breath hitches. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Steve gives him a grin. "Next time, I'll try swallowing."

"You're gonna be the death of me," Danny says. It's meant to be a joke, but Steve's expression turns serious.

"I really might be, you know. It's probably not safe, being with me."

Danny shakes his head. "I already knew you were a trouble magnet, and I'm still here. This is my choice, okay?"

Looking a little reassured, Steve picks up the towel again, cleans Danny up, and tucks his now-soft cock back into his underwear. Just that touch is enough to send jolts of heat echoing through Danny's body, but there's no way he's getting it up again any time soon.

Feeling too shaky to stay upright, he collapses sideways, patting the cushion invitingly. And Steve joins him on the sofa, hooking one long leg over Danny's hips and pillowing his head on Danny's upper arm. 

Though Danny's always been a cuddler, he's a little surprised that Steve's willing to go along with it. Then he considers how much Steve has denied himself, all these years: not only sex with guys, but intimacy too. 

So Danny holds Steve close, one hand on the nape of his neck and the other smoothing up and down his spine. Slowly, gradually, Steve relaxes into Danny's embrace.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Hesse is safely shipped off to a maximum security prison on the mainland, and protected from Wo Fat. Jenna shows up in Hawaii, and Steve and Danny win her over to their side although she pretends to be pulled in by Wo Fat's lies about her fiance. She helps them ambush Wo Fat, and she, Danny, and Steve all shoot him after he pulls a gun on them.
> 
> Steve eventually invites both Danny and his partner Reyes to join H50. As a subplot, they keep investigating the mole inside HPD, along with a couple of HPD narcotics detectives, and discover that it's Kaleo. Kaleo kidnaps Danny as a last-ditch ploy, but Steve naturally saves the day.
> 
> Steve and Danny live happily ever after, and get hitched once marriage equality is legaised in Hawaii.


End file.
